THE  FATE 


OF 


liversity  of 

Southern  Re| 

Library  Faj 


111 


SCHUYLER  STAUNTON 


THE 
FATE  OF  A  CROWN 


ENIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY 

KARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


LESBA— 
DAUGHTER   OF   THE    EEVOLUTION. 


BY 

SCHUYLER  STAUNTON 


See,  my  liege— see  through  plots  and  counterplots — 
The  gain  and  loss — through  glory  and  disgrace — 
******    sj.jjj  t^e  jjoly  stream 

Of  human  happiness  glides  on! 

— '  'Richelieu' '— BULWER-LYTTON 


THE  REILLY  &  BRITTON  CO. 
CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 
THE  REILLY  &  BRITTON  CO, 


A  LIST  OF  CHAPTERS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  BLUE  ENVELOPE 9 

IE.  VALCOUR  ---- 16 

HI.  A  GOOD  REPUBLICAN 29 

IV.  THE  CHIEFTAIN 42 

V.  MADAM  IZABEL    -------._     61 

VI.  THE  SECRET  VAULT    -------       77 

VII.  GENERAL  FONSECA 92 

Vm.  A  TERRIBLE  CRIME 102 

IX.  THE  MISSING  FINGER 120 

X.  "FOR  TO-MORROW  WE  DIE!  "  -    -    -    -      129 

XI.  LESBA'S  BRIGHT  EYES  -------137 

XII.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  SHRUBBERY       -    -    -      146 

XIII.  DOM  PEDRO  DE  ALCANTARA 156 

XIV.  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  RING 166 

XV.  A  DANGEROUS  MOMENT     ------177 

XVI.  TRAITOR  TO  THE  CAUSE  ------      185 

XVII.  THE  TORCH  OF  REBELLION 190 

XVIII.  A  NARROW  ESCAPE 206 

XIX.  THE  WAYSIDE  INN 221 

XX.  "ARISE  AND  STRIKE!  " 234 

XXI.  ONE  MYSTERY  SOLVED      ------  247 

XXII.  THE  DEATH  SENTENCE 260 

XXIII.  AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR 270 

XXIV.  THE  EMPEROR'S  SPY 279 

XXV.  THE  GIRL  I  LOVE    -    -    -    -  -  292 


2133008 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  BLUE  ENVELOPE 

Leaning  back  in  my  chair,  I  smoked  my 
morning  cigar  and  watched  Uncle  Nelson 
open  his  mail.  He  had  an  old-fashioned 
way  of  doing  this:  holding  the  envelope 
in  his  left  hand,  clipping  its  right  edge  with 
his  desk  shears,  and  then  removing  the 
inclosure  and  carefully  reading  it  before  he 
returned  it  to  its  original  envelope.  Across 
one  end  he  would  make  a  memorandum 
of  the  contents,  after  which  the  letters  were 
placed  in  a  neat  pile. 

As  I  watched  him  methodically  working, 
Uncle  Nelson  raised  a  large  blue  envelope, 
clipped  its  end,  and  read  the  inclosure 
with  an  appearance  of  unusual  interest. 
Then,  instead  of  adding  it  to  the  letters 
before  him,  he  laid  it  aside;  and  a  few 
minutes  later  reverted  to  it  again,  giving 
the  letter  a  second  careful  perusal.  Deeply 
musing,  for  a  time  he  sat  motionless  in  his 

[9] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

chair.  Then,  arousing  himself  from  his 
deep  abstraction,  he  cast  a  fleeting  glance 
in  my  direction  and  composedly  resumed 
his  task. 

I  knew  Uncle  Nelson's  habits  so  well 
that  this  affair  of  the  blue  envelope  told 
me  plainly  the  communication  was  of  un- 
usual importance.  Yet  the  old  gentleman 
calmly  continued  his  work  until  every 
letter  the  mail  contained  was  laid  in  a  pile 
before  him  and  fully  docketed.  With  the 
last  he  suddenly  swung  around  in  his  chair 
and  faced  me. 

"Robert,"  said  he,  "how  would  you 
like  to  go  to  Brazil  ?" 

Lacking  a  ready  answer  to  this  blunt 
question  I  simply  stared  at  him. 

"De  Pintra  has  written  me,"  he  con- 
tinued— "do  you  know  of  Dom  Miguel 
de  Pintra?"  I  shook  my  head.  "He  is 
one  of  the  oldest  customers  of  the  house. 
His  patronage  assisted  us  in  getting  estab- 
lished. We  are  under  deep  obligations 
to  de  Pintra." 

"I  do  not  remember  seeing  his  name 
upon  the  books,"  I  said,  thoughtfully. 

[10] 


The  Blue  Envelope 

"No;  before  you  came  into  the  firm 
he  had  retired  from  business — for  he  is  a 
wealthy  man.  But  I  believe  this  retire- 
ment has  been  bad  for  him.  His  energetic 
nature  would  not  allow  him  to  remain 
idle,  and  he  has  of  late  substituted  politics 
for  business." 

"That  is  not  so  bad,"  I  remarked, 
lightly.  "Some  people  make  a  business 
of  politics,  and  often  it  proves  a  fairly 
successful  one." 

My  uncle  nodded. 

"Here  in  New  Orleans,  yes,"  he  ac- 
knowledged; "but  things  are  vastly  differ- 
ent in  Brazil.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Dom 
Miguel  is  a  leader  of  the  revolutionists." 

"Ah,"  said  I,  impressed  by  his  grave 
tone.  And  I  added:  "I  have  supposed 
that  Dom  Pedro  is  secure  upon  his  throne, 
and  personally  beloved  by  his  subjects." 

"He  is  doubtless  secure  enough,"  re- 
turned Uncle  Nelson,  dryly,  "  but,  although 
much  respected  by  his  people,  there  is,  I 
believe,  serious  opposition  to  an  imperial 
form  of  government.  Rebellions  have  been 
numerous  during  his  reign.  Indeed,  these 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

people  of  Brazil  seem  rapidly  becoming 
republicans  in  principle,  and  it  is  to  estab- 
lish a  republican  form  of  government  that 
my  friend  de  Pintra  has  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  conspiracy.'* 

"Good  for  de  Pintra!"  I  cried,  heartily. 

"No,  no;  it  is  bad,"  he  rejoined,  with 
a  frown.  "There  is  always  danger  in  op- 
posing established  monarchies,  and  in  this 
case  the  Emperor  of  Brazil  has  the  coun- 
tenance of  both  Europe  and  America." 

As  I  ventured  no  reply  to  this  he  paused, 
and  again  regarded  me  earnestly. 

"I  believe  you  are  the  very  person, 
Robert,  I  should  send  de  Pintra.  He 
wishes  me  to  secure  for  him  a  secretary 
whom  he  may  trust  implicitly.  At  present, 
he  writes  me,  he  is  surrounded  by  the 
emperor's  spies.  Even  the  members  of  his 
own  household  may  be  induced  to  betray 
him.  Indeed,  I  imagine  my  old  friend  in 
a  very  hot-bed  of  intrigue  and  danger.  Yet 
he  believes  he  could  trust  an  American  who 
has  no  partiality  for  monarchies  and  no 
inducement  to  sympathize  with  any  party 
but  his  own.  Will  you  go,  Robert?" 

[12] 


The  Blue  Envelope 

The  question,  abrupt  though  it  was, 
did  not  startle  me.  Those  accustomed  to 
meet  Nelson  HarclifiVs  moods  must  think 
quickly.  Still,  I  hesitated. 

"  Can  you  spare  me,  Uncle  ?" 

"Not  very  well,"  he  admitted.  "You 
have  relieved  me  of  many  of  the  tedious 
details  of  business  since  you  came  home 
from  college.  But,  for  de  Pintra's  sake, 
I  am  not  only  willing  you  should  go,  but 
I  ask  you,  as  a  personal  favor,  to  hasten  to 
Rio  and  serve  my  friend  faithfully,  pro- 
tecting him,  so  far  as  you  may  be  able,  from 
the  dangers  he  is  facing.  You  will  find 
him  a  charming  fellow — a  noble  man, 
indeed — and  he  needs  just  such  a  loyal 
assistant  as  I  believe  you  will  prove.  Will 
you  go,  Robert  ?" 

Uncle  Nelson's  sudden  proposal  gave 
me  a  thrill  of  eager  interest  best  explained 
by  that  fascinating  word  "danger."  Five 
minutes  before  I  would  have  smiled  at  the 
suggestion  that  I  visit  a  foreign  country  on 
so  quixotic  an  errand;  but  the  situation 
was,  after  all,  as  simple  as  it  was  sudden  in 
development,  and  my  uncle's  earnest  voice 

[13] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

and  eyes  emphasized  his  request  in  no 
uncertain  manner.  Would  I  go  ?  Would 
I,  a  young  man  on  the  threshold  of  life, 
with  pulses  readily  responding  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  excitement  and  adventure,  leave 
my  humdrum  existence  in  a  mercantile 
establishment  to  mingle  in  the  intrigues  of 
a  nation  striving  to  cast  off  the  shackles  of 
a  monarchy  and  become  free  and  inde- 
pendent ?  My  answer  was  assured. 

Nevertheless,  we  Harcliffes  are  chary 
of  exhibiting  emotion.  Any  eagerness  on 
my  part  would,  I  felt,  have  seriously  dis- 
pleased my  reserved  and  deliberate  uncle. 
Therefore  I  occupied  several  minutes  in 
staring  thoughtfully  through  the  open  win- 
dow before  I  finally  swung  around  in  my 
chair  and  answered : 

"Yes,  Uncle,  I  will  go." 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  a  flush  of  pleas- 
ure spreading  over  his  fine  old  face.  Then 
he  turned  again  to  the  letter  in  the  blue 
envelope.  "The  Castina  sails  on  Wednes- 
day, I  see,  and  Dom  Miguel  wishes  his  new 
secretary  to  go  on  her.  Therefore  you 


[14] 


The  Blue  Envelope 

must  interview  Captain  Lertine  at  once, 
and  arrange  for  passage." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

I  took  my  hat,  returned  my  uncle's 
grave  bow,  and  left  the  office. 


fis] 


CHAPTER  II 


VALCOUR 

The  Castina  was  a  Brazilian  trading- 
ship  frequently  employed  by  the  firm  of 
Harcliffe  Brothers  to  transport  merchan- 
dise from  New  Orleans  to  Rio  de  Janiero. 
I  had  formed  a  slight  acquaintance  with 
the  master,  Pedro  Lertine,  and  was  not 
surprised  when  he  placed  his  own  state- 
room at  my  disposal;  for  although  the 
vessel  usually  carried  passengers,  the  cabin 
accommodations  were  none  of  the  best. 

The  Captain  asked  no  questions  con- 
cerning my  voyage,  contenting  himself  with 
the  simple  statement  that  he  had  often 
carried  my  father  with  him  in  the  Castina 
in  former  years,  and  was  now  pleased  to 
welcome  the  son  aboard.  He  exhibited 
rare  deference  toward  my  uncle,  Nelson 
Harcliffe,  as  the  head  of  our  firm,  when  the 
old  gentleman  came  to  the  head  of  the  levee 
to  bid  me  good  by;  this  Uncle  Nelson 

[16] 


Valcour 

did  by  means  of  a  gentle  pressure  of  my 
hand.  I  am  told  the  Harcliffes  are  always 
remarkable  for  their  reserve,  and  certainly 
the  head  of  our  house  was  an  adept  at 
repressing  his  emotions.  Neither  he  nor 
my  father,  who  had  been  his  associate  in 
founding  the  successful  mercantile  estab- 
lishment, had  ever  cared  to  make  any 
intimate  friends;  and  for  this  reason  the 
warmth  of  friendship  evinced  by  Uncle 
Nelson  in  sending  me  on  this  peculiar  mis- 
sion to  Dom  Miguel  de  Pintra  had  caused 
me  no  little  astonishment. 

After  his  simple  handshake  my  uncle 
walked  back  to  his  office,  and  I  immediately 
boarded  the  Castina  to  look  after  the  placing 
of  my  trunks.  Before  I  had  fairly  settled 
myself  in  my  cozy  state-room  we  were  under 
way  and  steaming  down  the  river  toward 
the  open  sea. 

On  deck  I  met  a  young  gentleman  of 
rather  prepossessing  personality  who  seemed 
quite  willing  to  enter  into  conversation.  He 
was  a  dark-eyed,  handsome  Brazilian,  well 
dressed  and  of  pleasing  manners.  His 
card  bore  the  inscription,  Manuel  Cortes 

[17] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

de  Guarde.  He  expressed  great  delight  at 
finding  me  able  to  speak  his  native  tongue, 
and  rendered  himself  so  agreeable  that  we 
had  soon  established  very  cordial  relations. 
He  loved  to  talk,  and  I  love  to  listen, 
especially  when  I  am  able  to  gather  infor- 
mation by  so  doing,  and  de  Guarde  seemed 
to  know  Brazil  perfectly,  and  to  delight  in 
describing  it.  I  noticed  that  he  never 
touched  on  politics,  but  from  his  general 
conversation  I  gleaned  considerable  knowl- 
edge of  the  country  I  was  about  to  visit. 

During  dinner  he  chattered  away  con- 
tinually in  his  soft  Portuguese  patois,  and 
the  other  passengers,  less  than  a  dozen  in 
number,  seemed  content  to  allow  him  to 
monopolize  the  conversation.  I  noticed 
that  Captain  Lertine  treated  de  Guarde 
with  fully  as  much  consideration  as  he  did 
me,  while  the  other  passengers  he  seemed 
to  regard  with  haughty  indifference.  How- 
ever, I  made  the  acquaintance  of  several 
of  my  fellow-voyagers  and  found  them  both 
agreeable  and  intelligent. 

I  had  promised  myself  a  pleasant,  quiet 
voyage  to  the  shores  of  Brazil,  but  pres- 

[18] 


Valcour 

ently  events  began  to  happen  with  a  rapidity 
that  startled  me.  Indeed,  it  was  not  long 
before  I  received  a  plain  intimation  that  I 
had  embarked  upon  an  adventure  that 
might  prove  dangerous. 

We  were  two  days  out,  and  the  night 
fell  close  and  warm.  Finding  my  berth 
insufferably  oppressive  I  arose  about  mid- 
night, partially  dressed,  and  went  on  deck 
to  get  whatever  breeze  might  be  stirring. 
It  was  certainly  cooler  than  below,  and 
reclining  in  the  shadow  beside  a  poop  I  had 
nearly  succeeded  in  falling  asleep  when 
aroused  by  the  voices  of  two  men  who 
approached  and  paused  to  lean  over  the 
taffrail.  They  proved  to  be  Captain  Ler- 
tine  and  de  Guarde,  and  I  was  about  to 
announce  my  presence  when  the  mention 
of  my  own  name  caused  me  to  hesitate. 

"I  cannot  understand  why  you  should 
suspect  young  Harcliffe,"  the  Captain  said. 

"Because,  of  all  your  passengers,  he 
would  be  most  fitted  to  act  as  de  Pintra's 
secretary,"  was  the  reply.  "And,  more- 
over, he  is  a  Harcliffe." 

"That's  just  it,  senhor,"  declared  the 

[19] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

other;  "he  is  a  Harcliffe,  and  since  his 
father's  death,  one  of  the  great  firm  of 
Harcliffe  Brothers.  It  is  absurd  to  think 
one  of  his  position  would  go  to  Brazil  to 
serve  Miguel  de  Pintra." 

"Perhaps  the  adventure  entices  him," 
returned  de  Guarde's  soft  voice,  in  reflective 
tones.  "  He  is  but  lately  from  college,  and 
his  uncle  may  wish  him  to  know  something 
of  Brazil,  where  the  greater  part  of  the 
Harcliffe  fortune  has  been  made." 

"Deus  Meo!"  exclaimed  the  Captain; 
"but  you  seem  to  know  everything  about 
everybody,  my  dear  Valcour!  However, 
this  suspicion  of  young  Harcliffe  is  nonsense, 
I  assure  you.  You  must  look  elsewhere 
for  the  new  secretary — provided,  of  course, 
he  is  on  my  ship." 

"  Oh,  he  is  doubtless  on  board,"  answered 
de  Guarde,  with  a  low,  confident  laugh. 
"  De  Pintra's  letters  asked  that  a  man  be 
sent  on  the  first  ship  bound  for  Rio,  and 
Nelson  Harcliffe  is  known  to  act  promptly 
in  all  business  matters.  Moreover,  I  have 
studied  carefully  the  personality  of  each  of 
your  passengers,  and  none  of  them  seems 

[20] 


Valcour 

fitted  for  the  post  so  perfectly  as  young  Har- 
cliffe  himself.  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Lertine, 
that  I  am  right.  He  can  be  going  out  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  assist  de  Pintra." 

The  Captain  whistled  softly. 

"Therefore  ?"  he  murmured. 

"Therefore,"  continued  de  Guarde, 
gravely,  "it  is  my  duty  to  prevent  his  reach- 
ing his  destination." 

"You  will  have  him  arrested  when  we 
reach  Rio  ?" 

"Arrested?  No,  indeed.  Those  Ameri- 
cans at  Washington  become  peevish  if  we 
arrest  one  of  their  citizens,  however  criminal 
he  may  be.  The  situation  demands  deli- 
cate treatment,  and  my  orders  are  positive. 
Our  new  secretary  for  the  revolution  must 
not  reach  Rio." 

Again  the  Captain  whistled — a  vague 
melody  with  many  false  and  uncertain  notes. 
And  the  other  remained  silent. 

Naturally  I  found  the  conversation  most 
interesting,  and  no  feeling  of  delicacy  pre- 
vented my  straining  my  ears  to  catch  more 
of  it.  It  was  the  Captain  who  broke  the 
long  silence. 

[21] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Nevertheless,  my  dear  Valcour — * 

"De  Guarde,  if  you  please." 

"Nevertheless,  de  Guarde,  our  Mr.  Har- 
cliffe  may  be  innocent,  and  merely  journey- 
ing to  Brazil  on  business." 

"I  propose  to  satisfy  myself  on  that 
point.  Great  God,  man!  do  you  think  I 
love  this  kind  of  work — even  for  the  Em- 
peror's protection  ?  But  my  master  is  just, 
though  forced  at  times  to  act  with  seeming 
cruelty.  I  must  be  sure  that  Harcliffe  is 
going  to  Brazil  as  secretary  to  the  rebel 
leader,  and  you  must  aid  me  in  deter- 
mining the  fact.  When  our  man  goes  to 
breakfast  in  the  morning  I  will  examine  his 
room  for  papers.  The  pass-key  is  on  the 
bunch  you  gave  me,  I  suppose  ? " 

"Yes,  it  is  there." 

"Very  well.  Join  your  passengers  at 
breakfast,  and  should  Mr.  Harcliffe  leave 
the  table  on  any  pretext,  see  that  I  am  duly 
warned." 

"  Certainly,  senhor." 

"And  now  I  am  going  to  bed.  Good 
night,  Lertine." 

"Good  night,  de  Guarde." 

[22] 


Valcour 

They  moved  cautiously  away,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  I  followed,  regaining  my 
state-room  without  encountering  any  one. 

Once  in  my  bunk  I  lay  revolving  the 
situation  in  my  mind.  Evidently  it  was  far 
from  safe  to  involve  one's  self  in  Brazilian 
politics.  My  friend  Valcour,  as  the  Cap- 
tain had  called  him,  was  a  spy  of  the  Em- 
peror, masquerading  under  the  title  of 
Senhor  Manuel  Cortes  de  Guarde.  A 
clever  fellow,  indeed,  despite  his  soft,  femi- 
nine ways  and  innocent  chatter,  and  one 
who  regarded  even  murder  as  permissible 
in  the  execution  of  his  duty  to  Dom  Pedro. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had  been, 
to  my  knowledge,  in  any  personal  danger, 
and  the  sensation  was  rather  agreeable  than 
otherwise. 

It  astonished  me  to  discover  that  de 
Guarde  knew  so  perfectly  the  contents  of 
Dom  Miguel's  letter  to  my  uncle.  Doubt- 
less the  secret  police  had  read  and  made  a 
copy  of  it  before  the  blue  envelope  had 
been  permitted  to  leave  Brazil.  But  in  that 
case,  I  could  not  understand  why  they  had 
allowed  the  missive  to  reach  its  destination. 

[23] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

In  his  cool  analysis  of  the  situation,  my 
friend  the  spy  had  unerringly  hit  upon  the 
right  person  as  the  prospective  secretary  of 
the  revolutionary  leader.  Yet  he  had  no 
positive  proof,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  reflect 
that  in  my  possession  were  no  papers  of  any 
sort  that  might  implicate  me.  Uncle  Nelson 
had  even  omitted  the  customary  letter  of 
introduction. 

"  De  Pintra  knew  your  father,  and  your 
face  will  therefore  vouch  for  your  identity," 
the  old  gentleman  had  declared.  Others 
have  remarked  upon  the  strong  resemblance 
I  bear  my  father,  and  I  had  no  doubt  de 
Pintra  would  recognize  me.  But,  in  ad- 
dition, I  had  stored  in  my  memory  a  secret 
word  that  would  serve  as  talisman  in  case 
of  need. 

The  chances  of  my  puzzling  Dom  Pedro's 
detective  were  distinctly  in  my  favor,  and  I 
was  about  to  rest  content  in  that  knowledge, 
when  an  idea  took  possession  of  me  that 
promised  so  much  amusement  that  I  could 
not  resist  undertaking  it.  It  may  be  that 
I  was  influenced  by  a  mild  chagrin  at  the 
deception  practised  upon  me  by  de  Guarde, 

[24] 


Valcour 

or  the  repulsion  that  a  secret-service  man 
always  inspires  in  the  breast  of  a  civilian. 
Anyway,  I  resolved  to  pit  my  wits  against 
those  of  Senhor  Valcour,  and  having  formu- 
lated my  plan  I  fell  asleep  and  rested  com- 
fortably until  daybreak. 

It  had  been  my  habit  to  carry  with  me 
a  pocket  diary,  inscribing  therein  any  vivid 
impressions  or  important  events  that  oc- 
curred to  me.  There  were  many  blank 
pages,  for  my  life  had  been  rather  barren 
of  incident  of  late;  but  I  had  resolved  to 
keep  a  record  of  this  trip  and  for  this  pur- 
pose the  little  book  was  now  lying  upon 
the  low  shelf  that  served  as  table  in  my 
room. 

Arising  somewhat  before  my  usual  hour 
I  made  a  hurried  toilet  and  sat  down  to 
make  entries  in  my  diary.  I  stated  that 
my  sudden  desire  to  visit  Brazil  was  due  to 
curiosity,  and  that  my  uncle  had  placed 
several  minor  business  matters  in  my  hands 
to  attend  to.  My  return  to  New  Orleans 
would  depend  entirely  upon  how  well  I 
liked  the  country  where  our  house  had 
so  successfully  traded  for  a  half-century. 

[25] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Arriving  at  this  point,  I  added  the  following 
paragraphs : 

"  On  the  ship  with  me  Uncle  Nelson  is  sending  a  private 
secretary  to  Dom  Miguel  de  Pintra,  who,  it  seems,  was  an 
ancient  customer  of  our  house,  but  is  now  more  interested 
in  politics  than  in  commerce.  This  secretary  is  a  remark- 
able fellow,  yet  so  placid  and  unassuming  that  no  one  is 
likely  to  suspect  his  mission.  He  seems  to  know  every- 
thing, and  has  astonished  me  by  his  intimate  knowledge 
of  all  that  transpires  upon  the  ship.  For  example,  he  tells 
me  that  my  friend  de  Guarde,  of  whom  I  have  already 
grown  fond,  is  none  other  than  a  certain  Valcour,  well 
known  in  the  secret  service  of  his  majesty  the  Emperor  of 
Brazil.  Valcour  is  on  board  because  he  knows  the  con- 
tents of  a  letter  written  by  de  Pintra  to  my  uncle,  asking 
for  a  shrewd  American  to  become  his  private  secretary; 
also  Valcour  is  instructed  to  dispose  of  the  rebel  secretary 
before  we  land  at  Rio — meaning,  of  course,  to  murder 
him  secretly.  This  seemingly  horrible  plot  but  amuses 
our  secretary,  for  Valcour  has  only  poor  Captain  Lertine 
to  aid  him,  whereas  the  wonderful  American  has  a  follow- 
ing of  desperate  men  trained  to  deeds  of  bloodshed  who 
will  obey  his  slightest  nod.  From  what  I  learn  I  am 
confident  the  plan  is  to  assassinate  my  friend  Valcour 
in  a  secret  manner,  for  here  is  a  rare  opportunity  to  rid 
themselves  of  a  hated  royalist  spy.  Poor  de  Guarde ! 
I  would  like  to  warn  him  of  his  danger,  but  dare  not. 
Even  then,  I  doubt  his  ability  to  escape.  The  toils  are 
dosing  about  him,  even  while  he  innocently  imagines 
[26] 


Valcour 

that  he,  as  the  Emperor's  agent,  controls  the  situation. 
It  would  all  be  laughable,  were  it  not  so  very  terrible  in 
its  tragic  aspect. 

"But  there!  I  must  not  mix  with  politics,  but  strive 
to  hold  aloof  from  either  side.  The  secretary,  though 
doubtless  a  marvel  of  diplomacy  and  duplicity,  is  too 
unscrupulous  to  suit  me.  He  has  actually  corrupted 
the  entire  crew,  from  the  engineers  down,  and  at  his  word 
I  am  assured  the  fellows  would  mutiny  and  seize  the  ship. 
What  chance  has  my  poor  friend  de  Guarde — or  Valcour — 
to  escape  this  demon  ?  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  not  my  affair, 
and  I  dare  not  speak." 

This  entry  I  intended  to  puzzle  Senhor 
Valcour,  even  if  it  failed  to  wholly  deceive 
him.  I  wrote  it  with  assumed  carelessness, 
to  render  it  uniform  with  the  former  para- 
graphs the  book  contained.  These  last 
were  of  a  trivial  nature,  dating  back  for 
some  months.  They  would  interest  no  one 
but  myself;  yet  I  expected  them  to  be 
read,  for  I  left  the  diary  lying  upon  my 
shelf,  having  first  made  a  number  of  pin- 
marks  in  the  paint,  at  the  edges  of  the 
cover,  so  that  I  might  assure  myself,  on 
my  return  to  the  room,  whether  or  not  the 
book  had  been  disturbed. 

This  task  completed,  I  locked  the  door 

[27] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

behind  me  and  cheerfully  joined  the  break- 
fast party  in  the  main  cabin. 

De  Guarde  was  not  present,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  miss  him,  and  we  lingered  long 
in  light  conversation  over  the  meal,  as  it  is 
the  custom  of  passengers  aboard  a  slow- 
going  ship. 

Afterward,  when  I  went  on  deck,  I  dis- 
covered de  Guarde  leaning  over  the  rail, 
evidently  in  deep  thought.  As  I  strolled 
past  him,  puffing  my  cigar,  he  turned 
around,  and  the  sight  of  his  face,  white  and 
stern,  positively  startled  me.  The  soft  dark 
eyes  had  lost  their  confident,  merry  look, 
and  bore  a  trace  of  fear.  No  need  to 
examine  the  pin-marks  on  my  shelf.  The 
Emperor's  spy  had,  without  doubt,  read 
the  false  entry  in  my  diary,  and  it  had  im- 
pressed him  beyond  my  expectation. 


[28] 


CHAPTER  III 


A  GOOD  REPUBLICAN 

During  the  remainder  of  the  voyage  I 
had  little  intercourse  with  Senhor  Manuel 
Cortes  de  Guarde.  Indeed,  I  had  turned 
the  tables  quite  cleverly  upon  the  spy,  who 
doubtless  imagined  many  dangers  in  ad- 
dition to  those  indicated  in  my  diary.  For 
my  part,  I  became  a  bit  ashamed  of  the 
imposition  I  had  practised,  despite  the 
fact  that  the  handsome  young  Brazilian 
had  exhibited  a  perfect  willingness  to 
assassinate  me  in  the  Emperor's  interests. 
Attracted  toward  him  in  spite  of  my  dis- 
coveries, I  make  several  attempts  to  resume 
our  former  friendly  intercourse;  but  he 
recoiled  from  my  overtures  and  shunned 
my  society. 

In  order  to  impress  upon  de  Guarde  the 
truth  of  the  assertions  I  had  made  in  the 
diary  I  selected  a  young  physician,  a  Dr. 
Neel,  to  impersonate  the  intriguing  and 

[29] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

bloodthirsty  American  secretary.  He  was 
a  quiet,  unobtrusive  fellow,  with  an  in- 
telligent face,  and  a  keen,  inquiring  look  in 
his  eyes.  I  took  occasion  to  confide  to 
Dr.  Neel,  in  a  mysterious  manner  that  must 
have  amused  him,  that  I  was  afflicted  with 
an  incomprehensible  disease.  He  promptly 
mistook  me  for  a  hypochondriac,  and 
humored  me  in  a  good-natured  fashion,  so 
that  we  were  frequently  observed  by  de 
Guarde  in  earnest  and  confidential  con- 
versation. My  ruse  proved  effective.  Of- 
ten I  surprised  a  look  of  anxiety  upon  the 
Brazilian's  face  as  he  watched  Dr.  Neel 
from  a  distance;  but  de  Guarde  took 
pains  not  to  mingle  with  any  group  that  the 
physician  made  part  of,  and  it  was  evident 
the  detective  had  no  longer  any  desire  to  pre- 
cipitate a  conflict  during  the  voyage  to  Rio. 
I  do  not  say  that  Valcour  was  cowardly. 
In  his  position  I  am  positive  I  could  riot 
have  escaped  the  doubts  that  so  evidently 
oppressed  him.  He  secluded  himself  in  his 
state-room,  under  pretense  of  illness,  as  we 
drew  nearer  to  Brazil,  and  I  was  consider- 
ably relieved  to  have  him  out  of  the  way. 

[30] 


A  Good  Republican 

Captain  Lertine,  to  whom  Valcour  had 
evidently  confided  his  discovery  of  the 
diary,  was  also  uneasy  during  those  days, 
and  took  occasion  to  ask  me  many  questions 
about  Dr.  Neel,  which  I  parried  in  a  way 
that  tended  to  convince  him  that  the  physi- 
cian was  none  other  than  the  secret  emissary 
sent  by  my  uncle  to  Miguel  de  Pintra.  The 
good  Captain  was  nervous  over  the  safety 
of  the  ship,  telling  me  in  a  confidential  way 
that  nearly  all  his  crew  were  new  hands, 
and  that  he  had  no  confidence  in  their 
loyalty  to  the  Emperor. 

His  face  bore  an  expression  of  great 
relief  when  we  anchored  in  the  bay  of  Rio 
de  Janiero  on  a  clear  June  morning  at  day- 
break, and  no  time  was  lost  in  transferring 
the  passengers  of  the  Castina  to  a  small 
steam  launch,  which  soon  landed  us  and 
our  effects  upon  the  quay. 

I  had  not  seen  Valcour  since  we  anchored, 
but  after  bidding  good  by  to  Dr.  Neel, 
who  drove  directly  to  his  hotel,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  detective's  eager  face  as  he 
followed  the  doctor  in  a  cab. 

The  whole  affair  struck  me  as  being  a 

[31] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

huge  joke,  and  the  sensation  of  danger 
that  I  experienced  on  board  the  ship  was 
dissolved  by  the  bright  sunshine  and  the 
sight  of  the  great  city  calmly  awakening 
and  preparing  for  its  usual  daily  round  of 
business. 

I  dispatched  my  trunks  to  the  Conti- 
nental Railway  station,  and  finding  that  I 
had  ample  time  determined  to  follow  them 
on  foot,  the  long  walk  being  decidedly 
grateful  after  the  days  on  shipboard.  Much 
as  I  longed  to  see  the  beauties  of  Brazil's 
famous  capital,  I  dared  not  at  this  time 
delay  to  do  so,  as  my  uncle  had  impressed 
upon  me  the  necessity  of  presenting  myself 
to  de  Pintra  as  soon  as  possible  after  my 
arrival. 

Another  thing  that  influenced  me  was 
the  deception  that  I  had  practised  upon 
the  detective.  Valcour,  with  the  Emperor 
at  his  back,  was  now  a  power  to  be  reckoned 
with,  and  as  soon  as  he  discovered  that  I 
had  misled  him  the  police  would  doubtless 
be  hot  upon  my  trail.  So  my  safest  plan 
was  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  province  where 
my  new  chief  had  power  to  protect  me. 

[32] 


A  Good  Republican 

I  reached  the  railway  station  without 
difficulty  and  found  I  had  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  to  spare. 

"Give  me  a  ticket  to  Cuyaba,"  I  said 
to  the  clerk  at  the  window. 

He  stared  at  me  as  he  handed  the  card 
through  the  grating. 

"Matto  Grosso  train,  senhor,"  he  said. 
"It  leaves  at  eight  o'clock." 

"Thank  you,"  I  returned,  moving  away. 

A  tall  policeman  in  an  odd  uniform  of 
black  and  gold  barred  my  way. 

'Your  pardon,  senhor  Americano,"  said 
he,  touching  his  visor  in  salute;  "I  beg 
you  to  follow  me  quietly." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  marched 
away,  and  I,  realizing  that  trouble  had 
already  overtaken  me,  followed  him  to  the 
street. 

A  patrol  was  drawn  up  at  the  curb,  a 
quaint-looking  vehicle  set  low  between  four 
high  wheels  and  covered  with  canvas. 
Startled  at  the  sight  I  half  turned,  with  a 
vague  idea  of  escape,  and  confronted  two 
stout  policemen  at  my  rear. 

Resistance    seemed    useless.     I    entered 

[33] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

the  wagon,  my  captor  seating  himself  upon 
the  bench  beside  me.  Instantly  we  whirled 
away  at  a  rapid  pace. 

I  now  discerned  two  men,  also  in  uni- 
form, upon  the  front  seat.  One  was  driving 
the  horses,  and  presently  the  other  climbed 
over  the  seat  and  sat  opposite  my  guard. 

The  tall  policeman  frowned. 

"Why  are  you  here,  Marco?"  he  de- 
manded, in  a  threatening  voice. 

"For  this!"  was  the  prompt  answer; 
and  with  the  words  I  caught  a  quick  flash 
as  the  man  called  Marco  buried  a  knife 
to  the  hilt  in  the  other's  breast. 

My  captor  scarce  uttered  a  sound  as  he 
pitched  headforemost  upon  the  floor  of  the 
now  flying  wagon.  The  driver  had  but 
given  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  and  lashed 
his  horses  to  their  utmost  speed. 

Cold  with  horror  at  the  revolting  deed 
I  gazed  into  the  dark  eyes  of  the  murderer. 
He  smiled  as  he  answered  my  look  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  excusing  the 
crime. 

"A  blow  for  freedom,  senhor!"  he 
announced,  in  his  soft,  native  patois. 

[34] 


A  Good  Republican 

"Dom  Miguel  would  be  grieved  were  you 
captured  by  the  police." 

I  started. 

"  Dom  Miguel !    You  know  him,  then  ?  " 

"Assuredly,  senhor.  You  are  the  new 
secretary.  Otherwise  you  would  not  be  so 
foolish  as  to  demand  a  ticket  to  Cuyaba — 
the  seat  of  the  revolution." 

"I  begin  to  understand,"  I  said,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "You  are  of  the 
police  ?" 

"Sergeant  Marco,  senhor;  at  your  ser- 
vice. And  I  have  ventured  to  kill  our  dear 
lieutenant  in  order  to  insure  your  safety. 
I  am  sorry,"  he  added,  gently  touching  the 
motionless  form  that  lay  between  us;  "the 
lieutenant  was  a  good  comrade — but  a  per- 
sistent royalist." 

"Where  are  you  taking  me?"  I  asked. 

"To  a  suburban  crossing,  where  you 
may  catch  the  Matto  Grosso  train." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  ?  I  am  in  no  danger,  senhor.  It 
is  you  who  have  done  this  cruel  deed — and 
you  will  escape.  The  driver — a  true  pa- 
triot— will  join  me  in  accusing  you." 

[35] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

I  nodded,  my  horror  of  the  tragedy 
growing  each  moment.  Truly  this  revolu- 
tionary party  must  be  formed  of  desperate 
and  unscrupulous  men,  who  hesitated  at 
no  crime  to  advance  their  interests.  If 
the  royalists  were  but  half  so  cruel  I  had 
indeed  ventured  into  a  nest  of  adders.  And 
it  was  the  thought  of  Valcour's  confessed 
purpose  to  murder  me  on  shipboard  that 
now  sealed  my  lips  from  a  protest  against 
this  deed  that  was  to  be  laid  upon  my 
shoulders. 

Presently  the  wagon  slowed  up,  stopping 
with  a  jerk  that  nearly  threw  me  from  my 
seat.  The  sergeant  alighted  and  assisted 
me  to  follow  him. 

We  were  at  a  deserted  crossing,  and  the 
buildings  of  the  city  lay  scattered  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away. 

"Take  this  flag,  senhor.  The  engineer 
will  stop  to  let  you  aboard.  Farewell,  and 
kindly  convey  my  dutiful  respects  to  Dom 
Miguel." 

As  the  wagon  rolled  away  the  train  came 
gliding  from  the  town,  and  I  stepped  be- 
tween the  tracks  and  waved  the  flag  as 

[36] 


A  Good  Republican 

directed.  The  engine  slowed  down,  stopped 
a  brief  instant,  and  I  scrambled  aboard  as 
the  train  recovered  speed  and  moved  swiftly 
away. 

For  the  present,  at  least,  I  was  safe. 

Quite  unobtrusively  I  seated  myself  in 
the  rear  end  of  the  passenger  coach  and 
gazed  from  the  window  as  we  rushed  along, 
vainly  endeavoring  to  still  the  nervous 
beating  of  my  heart  and  to  collect  and  cen- 
ter my  thoughts  upon  the  trying  situation 
in  which  I  found  myself.  Until  the  last 
hour  I  had  been  charmed  with  my  mission 
to  Brazil,  imagining  much  pleasure  in  acting 
as  secretary  to  a  great  political  leader 
engaged  in  a  struggle  for  the  freedom  of  his 
country.  The  suggestion  of  danger  my 
post  involved  had  not  frightened  me,  nor 
did  it  even  now;  but  I  shrank  from  the 
knowledge  that  cold-blooded  assassination 
was  apparently  of  little  moment  to  these 
conspirators.  In  less  than  two  hours  after 
landing  at  Rio  I  found  myself  fleeing  from 
the  police,  with  a  foul  and  revolting  murder 
fastened  upon  me  in  the  name  of  the  revolu- 
tion !  Where  would  it  all  end  ?  Did  Uncle 

[37] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Nelson  thoroughly  realize  the  terrible  nature 
of  the  political  plot  into  which  he  had  so 
calmly  thrust  me  ?  Probably  not.  But 
already  I  knew  that  Brazil  was  a  dangerous 
country  and  sheltered  a  hot-headed  and 
violent  people. 

It  was  a  long  and  dreary  ride  as  we 
mounted  the  grade  leading  to  the  table- 
lands of  the  interior.  Yet  the  country  was 
beautifully  green  and  peaceful  under  the 
steady  glare  of  the  sun,  and  gradually  my 
distress  passed  away  and  left  me  more 
composed. 

Neither  the  passengers  nor  trainmen 
paid  the  slightest  attention  to  me,  and 
although  at  first  I  looked  for  arrest  at  every 
station  where  we  halted,  there  was  no 
indication  that  the  police  of  Rio  had  dis- 
covered my  escape  and  flight. 

Night  came  at  last,  and  I  dozed  fitfully 
during  the  long  hours,  although  still  too 
nervous  for  sound  sleep.  We  breakfasted 
at  a  way-station,  and  a  couple  of  hours 
later,  as  I  was  gazing  thoughtfully  out  the 
window,  the  conductor  aroused  me  by 
settling  into  the  seat  at  my  side.  He  was  a 

[38] 


A  Good  Republican 

short,  pudgy  individual,  and  wheezed 
asthmatically  with  every  breath. 

"I  received  a  telegram  at  the  last  sta- 
tion," he  confided  to  me,  choking  and 
coughing  between  the  words.  "It  instruct- 
ed me  to  arrest  an  American  senhor  trav- 
eling to  Cuyaba.  Have  you  seen  him  ?" 

I  shivered,  and  stared  back  into  his 
dull  eyes. 

"Ah!  I  thought  not,"  he  continued, 
with  a  short  laugh.  "It  is  not  the  first 
telegram  they  have  sent  this  trip  from  Rio, 
you  know ;  but  I  cannot  find  the  fellow  any- 
where aboard.  Do  you  wonder  ?  How  can 
I  be  expected  to  distinguish  an  American 
from  a  Brazilian  ?  Bah !  I  am  not  of  the 
police." 

I  began  to  breathe  again.  The  conduc- 
tor nudged  my  ribs  with  his  elbow. 

"These  police  will  perhaps  be  at  the 
station.  Cuyaba  is  the  next  stop.  But  we 
will  slow  up,  presently,  at  a  curve  near  the 
edge  of  the  forest.  Were  I  the  American, 
and  aboard  this  train,  I  would  get  out  there, 
and  wait  among  the  trees  in  the  forest  until 
Dom  Miguel's  red  cart  comes  along.  But, 

[39] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

ai  de  mim,  the  American  is  not  here !  Eh  ? 
Thank  God  for  it!  But  I  must  leave, 
senhor.  Good  day  to  you." 

He  bustled  away,  and  at  once  I  seized 
my  traveling-bag  and  slipped  out  to  the 
back  platform.  We  slowed  up  at  the  curve 
a  moment  later,  and  I  sprang  to  the  ground 
and  entered  the  shade  of  a  group  of  trees 
that  marked  the  edge  of  the  little  forest. 

And  there  I  sat  upon  a  fallen  tree- 
trunk  for  two  weary  hours,  wondering  what 
would  happen  next,  and  wishing  with  all 
my  heart  I  had  never  ventured  into  this 
intrigue-ridden  country.  But  at  the  end 
of  that  time  I  heard  the  rattle  of  a  wagon 
and  the  regular  beat  of  a  horse's  feet. 

Peering  from  my  refuge  I  discerned  a 
red  cart  slowly  approaching  over  the  road 
that  wound  between  the  railway  track  and 
the  forest.  It  was  driven  by  a  sleepy 
Brazilian  boy  in  a  loose  white  blouse  and  a 
wide  straw  hat. 

As  he  arrived  opposite  me  I  stepped  out 
and  hailed  him. 

"  Are  you  from  Dom  Miguel  de  Pintra  ?" 
I  asked. 

[40] 


A  Good  Republican 

He  nodded. 

"I  am  the  American  he  is  expecting," 
I  continued,  and  climbed  to  the  seat  beside 
him.  He  showed  no  surprise  at  my  action, 
nor,  indeed,  any  great  interest  in  the 
meeting;  but  as  soon  as  I  was  seated  he 
whipped  up  the  horse,  which  developed 
unexpected  speed,  and  we  were  soon  rolling 
swiftly  over  the  country  road. 


[41] 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  CHIEFTAIN 

The  province  of  Matto  Grosso  is  very 
beautiful,  the  residences  reminding  one 
greatly  of  English  country  estates,  except 
that  their  architecture  is  on  the  stiff  Por- 
tuguese order.  At  least  a  half-mile  sepa- 
rated the  scattered  mansions  from  one 
another,  and  the  grounds  were  artistically 
planned  and  seemingly  well  cared  for. 
At  this  season  the  rich,  luxuriant  foliage  of 
Brazil  was  at  its  best,  and  above  all  brooded 
a  charming  air  of  peace  that  was  extremely 
comforting  after  my  late  exciting  experi- 
ences. We  met  few  people  on  the  way, 
and  these  were  peasants,  who  touched  their 
hats  respectfully  as  we  passed. 

We  had  driven  some  five  miles  when  we 
came  to  an  estate  rather  more  extensive 
than  its  neighbors,  for  the  hedge  of  bloom- 
ing cactus  that  divided  the  grounds  from 
the  roadway  ran  in  an  unbroken  line  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach. 

[42] 


The  Chieftain 

However,  we  came  to  a  gateway  at  last 
and  turned  into  the  grounds,  where  magnifi- 
cent trees  shaded  a  winding  drive  ascend- 
ing to  the  fine  old  mansion  of  de  Pintra. 

A  man  stood  upon  the  porch  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand  and  gazing  at  us  as  we 
approached.  When  I  alighted  from  the 
cart  he  came  down  the  steps  to  meet  me, 
bowing  very  courteously,  and  giving  my 
hand  a  friendly  pressure.  No  other  person 
was  in  sight,  and  the  red  cart  had  disap- 
peared around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

:*You  are  welcome,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a 
quiet  but  most  agreeable  voice.  :<You 
come  from  my  friend  Nelson  Harcliffe  ? 
That  was  my  thought."  He  paused  to 
give  me  a  keen  look,  and  then  smiled — a 
sweet,  winning  smile  such  as  I  have  seldom 
seen.  "Ah!  may  you  not  be  a  Harcliffe 
yourself  ?  Your  features  seem  quite  familiar. 
But,  pardon  me,  sir;  I  have  not  introduced 
myself.  I  am  Miguel  de  Pintra." 

I  fear  I  stared  at  him  with  somewhat 
rude  intentness,  for  Dom  Miguel  was  a 
man  to  arouse  interest  in  any  beholder. 
Tall,  spare,  but  not  ungraceful,  his  snow- 

[43] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

white  hair  and  beard  made  strong  contrast 
with  his  bronzed  features.  His  eyes,  soft 
and  gentle  in  expression,  were  black.  His 
smile,  which  was  not  frequent,  disclosed  a 
line  of  even,  white  teeth.  His  dress  was  a 
suit  of  plain,  well-fitting  black,  supple- 
mented by  irreproachable  linen.  Taken 
altogether,  Dom  Miguel  appeared  a  model 
of  the  old  school  of  gentility,  which  may  be 
as  quickly  recognized  in  Brazil  as  in  Eng- 
land, France  or  America.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
an  absurdity  to  connect  this  eminently 
respectable  personage  with  revolutions,  mur- 
ders, and  intrigue,  and  my  spirits  rose  the 
moment  I  set  eyes  upon  his  pleasant  face. 

"I  am  Robert  Harcliffe,"  said  I,  an- 
swering the  question  his  politeness  would 
not  permit  him  to  ask;  "the  son  of  Marshall 
Harcliffe." 

A  flash  of  surprise  and  delight  swept  over 
his  dark  face.  He  seized  both  my  hands 
in  his  own. 

"What!"  he  cried,  "Nelson  Harcliffe 
has  sent  me  his  own  nephew,  the  son  of 
my  dear  old  friend  ?  This  is,  indeed,  a 
rare  expression  of  loyalty!" 

[44] 


The  Chieftain 

"I  thought  you  knew,"  I  rejoined, 
rather  embarrassed,  for  the  fathomless  eyes 
were  reading  me  with  singular  eagerness. 

"I  only  knew  that  Nelson  Harcliffe 
would  respond  promptly  to  my  requests. 
I  knew  that  the  Castina  would  bring  my 
secretary  to  Brazil.  But  whom  he  might 
be  I  could  not  even  guess."  He  paused  a 
moment,  to  continue  in  a  graver  tone:  "I 
am  greatly  pleased.  I  need  a  friend — a 
faithful  assistant." 

"I  hope  I  may  prove  to  be  both,  sir," 
I  returned,  earnestly.  "But  you  seem  not 
to  lack  loyal  friends.  On  my  way  hither 
from  Rio  de  Janiero  I  have  been  pro- 
tected more  than  once,  doubtless  by  your 
orders." 

'Yes;  the  cause  has  many  true  adhe- 
rents, and  I  notified  our  people  to  expect  an 
American  gentleman  on  the  Castina  and 
to  forward  him  to  me  in  safety.  They 
know,  therefore,  that  you  came  to  assist  the 
Revolution,  and  it  would  have  been  strange, 
indeed,  had  the  royalists  been  able  to 
interfere  with  you." 

"Your  party  is  more  powerful  than  I 

[45] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

had  suspected,"  I  remarked,  thinking  of 
my  several  narrow  escapes  from  arrest. 

"We  are  only  powerful  because  the 
enemy  is  weak,"  answered  Dom  Miguel, 
with  a  sigh.  "Neither  side  is  ready  for 
combat,  or  even  an  open  rupture.  It  is  now 
the  time  of  intrigue,  of  plot  and  counterplot, 
of  petty  conspiracies  and  deceits.  These 
would  discourage  any  honest  heart  were  not 
the  great  Cause  behind  it  all — were  not  the 
struggle  for  freedom  and  our  native  land! 
But  come;  you  are  weary.  Let  me  show 
you  to  your  room,  Robert  Harcliffe." 

He  dwelt  upon  the  name  with  seeming 
tenderness,  and  I  began  to  understand  why 
my  father  and  my  stern  Uncle  Nelson  had 
both  learned  to  love  this  kindly  natured 
gentleman  of  Brazil. 

He  led  me  through  cool  and  spacious 
passages  to  a  cozy  room  on  the  ground  floor, 
which,  he  told  me,  connected  by  a  door 
with  his  study  or  work-room. 

"I  fear  my  trunks  have  been  seized  by 
the  government,"  said  I,  and  then  related 
to  him  the  details  of  my  arrest  and  the 
assassination  of  the  police  lieutenant. 

[46] 


The  Chieftain 

He  listened  to  the  story  calmly  and  with- 
out interruption;  but  when  it  was  finished 
he  said: 

"All  will  be  reported  to  me  this  evening, 
and  then  we  will  see  whether  your  baggage 
cannot  be  saved.  There  were  no  papers 
that  might  incriminate  you?" 

"None  whatever." 

Then  I  gave  him  the  story  of  Valcour, 
or  de  Guarde,  and  he  smiled  when  I 
related  the  manner  in  which  the  fellow  had 
been  deceived. 

"I  knew  that  Valcour  had  been  dis- 
patched to  intercept  my  secretary,"  said 
he,  "and  you  must  know  that  this  per- 
sonage is  not  an  ordinary  spy,  but  attached 
to  the  Emperor  himself  as  a  special  detec- 
tive. Hereafter,"  he  continued,  reflectively, 
"the  man  will  be  your  bitter  enemy;  and 
although  you  have  outwitted  him  once  he 
is  a  foe  not  to  be  despised.  Indeed, 
Harcliffe,  your  post  is  not  one  of  much 
security.  If,  when  I  have  taken  you  fully 
into  our  confidence,  you  decide  to  link  your 
fortunes  to  those  of  the  Revolution,  it  will 
be  with  the  full  knowledge  that  your  life 

[47] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

may  be  the  forfeit.  But  there — we  will 
speak  no  more  of  business  until  after  dinner." 

He  left  me,  then,  with  many  cordial 
expressions  of  friendship. 

A  servant  brought  my  luncheon  on  a 
tray,  and  after  eating  it  I  started  for  a 
stroll  through  the  grounds,  enjoying  the 
fragrance  and  brilliance  of  the  flowers,  the 
beauties  of  the  shrubbery,  and  the  stately 
rows  of  ancient  trees.  The  quiet  of  the 
place  suggested  nothing  of  wars  and  revolu- 
tions, and  it  was  with  real  astonishment 
that  I  reflected  that  this  establishment  was 
the  central  point  of  that  conspiracy  whose 
far-reaching  power  had  been  so  vividly 
impressed  upon  me. 

Engaged  in  this  thought  I  turned  the 
corner  of  a  hedge  and  came  face  to  face 
with  a  young  girl,  who  recoiled  in  surprise 
and  met  my  gaze  with  a  sweet  embarrass- 
ment that  caused  me  to  drop  my  own  eyes 
in  confusion. 

"Your  pardon,  senhorita !"  I  exclaimed, 
and  stood  aside  for  her  to  pass. 

She  nodded,  still  searching  my  face  with 
her  clear  eyes,  but  making  no  movement  to 

[48] 


The  Chieftain 

proceed.  I  noted  the  waves  of  color  sweep- 
ing over  her  fair  face  and  the  nervous  ten- 
sion of  the  little  hands  that  pressed  a  mass 
of  flowers  to  her  bosom.  Evidently  she 
was  struggling  for  courage  to  address  me; 
so  I  smiled  at  her,  reassuringly,  and  again 
bowed  in  my  best  manner,  for  I  was  not 
ill  pleased  at  the  encounter. 

I  have  always  had  a  profound  rev- 
erence for  woman  —  especially  those  fa- 
vored ones  to  whom  Nature  has  vouch- 
safed beauty  in  addition  to  the  charm  of 
womanhood.  And  here  before  me  stood 
the  most  beautiful  girl  I  had  ever  seen,  a 
type  of  loveliness  more  sweet  and  delightful 
than  any  I  had  even  dreamed  could  exist. 

It  was  my  fate  to  recognize  this  in  the 
moments  that  I  stood  watching  her  lips 
tremble  in  the  endeavor  to  form  her  first 
words  to  me. 

'You  are  the  American?"  she  asked, 
finally. 

"Assuredly,  donzella.  Permit  me  to 
introduce  myself.  I  am  Robert  Harcliffe." 

"My  uncle  expected  you,"  she  said, 
shyly. 

[49] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Your  uncle?" 

"Dom  Miguel  is  not  really  my  uncle," 
answered  the  girl;  "but  he  permits  me  to 
call  him  so,  since  he  is  my  guardian.  Yet 
it  was  not  from  him  I  learned  of  your 
arrival,  but  from  Francisco,  who  traveled 
from  Rio  on  the  same  train." 

My  face  doubtless  showed  that  I  was 
puzzled,  for  she  added,  quickly: 

"Francisco  is  my  brother,  senhor.  We 
are  both  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the 
Cause.  That  is  why  I  felt  that  I  must 
speak  with  you,  why  I  must  welcome  you 
to  our  fellowship,  why  I  must  implore  you 
to  be  strong  and  steadfast  in  our  behalf!" 

I  smiled  at  the  vehemence  that  had 
vanquished  her  former  hesitation,  and  to 
my  delight  her  exquisite  face  lighted  with 
an  answering  smile. 

"Ah,  you  may  laugh  at  me  with  im- 
punity, senhor  Americano,  for  I  have 
intuitions,  and  they  tell  me  you  will  be 
faithful  to  the  cause  of  freedom.  Nay,  do 
not  protest.  It  is  enough  that  I  have  read 
your  face." 

With  this  she  made  a  pretty  courtesy 

[50] 


The  Chieftain 

and  vanished  around  the  hedge  before  i 
could  summon  a  word  to  detain  her. 

It  is  astonishing  to  what  an  extent  this 
encounter  aroused  my  enthusiasm  for  "the 
Cause."  Heretofore  I  had  regarded  it 
rather  impersonally,  as  an  affair  in  which 
I  had  engaged  at  the  request  of  my  good 
uncle.  But  now  that  I  had  met  this  fellow- 
conspirator  and  gazed  into  the  enchanting 
depths  of  her  eyes,  I  was  tremendously  eager 
to  prove  my  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
freedom. 

True,  I  had  seen  the  girl  but  a  few 
moments.  Even  her  name  was  unknown 
to  me.  But  she  was  a  rebel;  Francisco, 
her  brother,  was  a  rebel ;  and  Dom  Miguel 
permitted  her  to  call  him  "uncle."  Very 
good ;  very  good,  indeed ! 

When  I  returned  to  my  room  I  was 
surprised  to  find  my  trunks  there,  they 
having  arrived  in  some  mysterious  way 
during  my  brief  absence. 

I  dressed  for  dinner  and  found  my  way 
to  the  drawing-room,  where  my  host  —  or 
my  employer,  rather  —  was  conversing  with 
a  lady  and  a  gentleman. 

[51] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

There  was  no  reason  my  heart  should 
give  that  bound  to  warn  me;  no  one  could 
fail  to  recognize  that  slender,  graceful 
figure,  although  it  was  now  enveloped  in 
dainty  folds  of  soft  white  mulle.  But  she 
had  no  intention  of  allowing  her  chance 
meeting  to  stand  for  a  formal  introduction, 
and  as  Dom  Miguel  presented  me  she  shot 
a  demure  yet  merry  glance  at  me  from 
beneath  her  long  lashes  that  might  readily 
have  effected  my  conquest  had  I  not  already 
surrendered  without  discretion. 

"The  Senhorita  Lesba  Paola,"  an- 
nounced de  Pintra,  speaking  the  name  with 
evident  tenderness.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
man.  "Senhor  Francisco  Paola,"  said  he. 

Francisco  Paola  puzzled  me  at  that  first 
meeting  nearly  as  much  as  he  did  later. 
His  thin  form  was  dressed  in  a  dandified 
manner  that  was  almost  ludicrous,  and  the 
fellow's  affectation  was  something  amazing. 
Somewhat  older  than  his  bewitching  sister, 
his  features  were  not  without  a  sort  of 
effeminate  beauty,  of  which  he  seemed 
fully  aware.  At  once  I  conceived  him  to 
be  a  mere  popinjay,  and  had  no  doubt  he 

[52] 


The  Chieftain 

would  prove  brainless  and  well-nigh  in- 
sufferable. But  Dom  Miguel  introduced 
Paola  with  grave  courtesy  and  showed  him 
so  much  deference  that  I  could  not  well  be 
ungracious  to  the  young  dandy.  More- 
over, he  had  a  stronger  claim  to  my  toler- 
ation: he  was  Lesba's  brother. 

Scarcely  were  these  introductions  com- 
plete when  another  lady  entered  the  room. 
She  gave  a  slight  start  at  sight  of  me,  and 
then  advanced  gracefully  to  Dom  Miguel's 
side. 

"My  daughter,  Mr.  Harcliffe;  Senhora 
Izabel  de  Mar,"  said  he,  and  gave  me  a 
curious  glance  that  I  could  not  understand. 

I  looked  at  Madam  Izabel  and  lowered 
my  eyes  before  the  cold  and  penetrating 
stare  I  encountered.  She  was  handsome 
enough,  this  woman ;  but  her  features,  how- 
ever regular,  were  repellant  because  of  their 
absolute  lack  of  expression — a  lack  caused 
by  repression  more  than  a  want  of  mobility. 
Her  face  seemed  carved  of  old  ivory.  Even 
the  great  eyes  were  impenetrable,  reflecting 
nothing  of  the  emotions  that  might  dwell 
within.  I  found  myself  shivering,  and 
although  I  sincerely  tried  to  be  agreeable  to 

[53] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Dom  Miguel's  daughter,  the  result  was 
little  more  than  farcical. 

My  sudden  appearance  in  the  household 
had  evidently  caused  Madam  Izabel  sur- 
prise; perhaps  it  annoyed  her,  as  well.  But 
she  drew  me  to  a  seat  beside  her  and  plied 
me  with  questions  which  I  was  at  a  loss  how 
to  answer,  in  view  of  the  supposedly  private 
nature  of  my  mission  to  Brazil.  Inwardly 
I  blamed  Dom  Miguel  for  not  telling  me 
how  far  his  daughter  and  his  guests  were  in 
his  confidence ;  but  before  I  blundered  more 
than  a  few  aimless  sentences  a  light  voice 
interrupted  us  and  Francisco  Paola  leaned 
over  Madam  Izabel's  chair  with  a  vapid 
compliment  on  the  lady's  charms  and  per- 
sonal appearance  that  was  fairly  imperti- 
nent in  its  flippancy. 

The  look  she  gave  him  would  have  si- 
lenced an  ordinary  man;  but  Senhor  Fran- 
cisco smiled  at  her  frown,  took  the  fan  from 
her  hand,  and  wielded  it  in  a  mincing  man- 
ner, pouring  into  her  unwilling  ears  a 
flood  of  nonsense  that  effectually  cut  me 
out  of  the  conversation. 

Dom  Miguel  came  to  my  relief  by  re- 
questing me  to  take  the  younger  lady  in  to 

[54]    ' 


The  Chieftain 

dinner,  and  to  my  surprise  Madam  Izabel 
took  Paola's  arm  without  apparent  reluc- 
tance and  followed  us  to  the  dining-room. 

The  repast  would  have  been,  I  fear, 
rather  stupid,  but  for  Senhor  Francisco's 
ceaseless  chatter.  To  my  great  disappoint- 
ment the  donzella  Lesba  Paola  appeared 
exceedingly  shy,  and  I  could  scarce  recog- 
nize in  her  my  eager  questioner  of  the 
afternoon.  De  Pintra,  indeed,  courteously 
endeavored  to  draw  the  ladies  into  a 
general  conversation;  but  his  daughter  was 
cold  and  unresponsive,  and  the  host  him- 
self appeared  to  be  in  a  thoughtful  mood. 
For  my  part,  I  was  glad  to  have  the  fop 
monopolize  the  conversation,  while  I  de- 
voted my  attention  to  the  silent  girl  beside 
me;  but  it  was  evident  that  a  general 
feeling  of  relief  prevailed  when  the  ladies 
returned  to  the  drawing-room  and  left  us 
to  our  cigars  and  wine. 

When  the  servants  had  been  dismissed 
and  we  three  men  were  alone,  Dom  Miguel 
addressed  me  with  unrestrained  frankness. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  little  of  our  revolu- 
tionary movement,  Mr.  Harcliffe,"  he  began. 

[55] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Very  little,  indeed,"  I  responded,  briefly. 

"It  dates  back  for  several  years,  but  has 
only  recently  attained  to  real  importance. 
Gradually  our  people,  of  all  degrees,  have 
awakened  to  the  knowledge  that  they  must 
resist  the  tyranny  of  the  imperial  govern- 
ment, with  its  horde  of  selfish  and  unscru- 
pulous retainers.  The  Emperor  is  honest 
enough,  but  weak,  and  his  advisors  leave 
him  no  exercise  of  his  own  royal  will. 
Spurred  by  the  nation's  distress,  the  Revo- 
lution has  at  last  taken  definite  form,  and  at 
present  centers  in  me.  But  as  our  strength 
grows  our  danger  increases.  The  existing 
government,  knowing  itself  threatened,  has 
become  keen  to  ferret  out  our  secrets  and  to 
discover  the  leaders  of  the  Cause,  that  they 
may  crush  all  with  one  blow."  He  paused, 
and  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigar  with  a 
thoughtful  gesture.  "For  this,  and  many 
another  reason,  I  need  the  assistance  of  a 
secretary  whom  I  may  trust  implicitly — who 
will,  if  need  be,  die  rather  than  betray  my 
confidence." 

I  glanced  hesitatingly  at  the  man  oppo- 
site me.  It  seemed  strange  that  Dom 

[56] 


The  Chieftain 

Miguel  should  speak  of  these  personal  mat- 
ters before  a  third  party. 

Paola  was  trying  to  balance  a  spoon  upon 
the  edge  of  his  glass.  He  met  my  gaze  with 
the  usual  vacant  smile  upon  his  face,  yet 
in  the  instant  I  caught  a  gleam  in  his  eye  so 
shrewd  and  comprehensive  that  it  positively 
startled  me.  Instantly  his  face  was  shrouded 
in  a  cloud  of  smoke  from  his  cigar,  and 
when  it  cleared  away  the  idiotic  leer  that 
appeared  upon  his  countenance  indicated 
anything  rather  than  intelligence. 

Dom  Miguel  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us  and  smiled. 

"Perhaps  I  should  tell  you,"  said  he, 
earnestly,  "that  no  man  is  higher  in  our 
counsels  or  more  thoroughly  esteemed  by 
all  classes  of  patriots  than  Francisco  Paola. 
You  may  speak  in  his  presence  with  entire 
freedom." 

At  this  the  popinjay  twisted  the  end  of 
his  moustache  and  bowed  with  mock  dig- 
nity. I  stared  at  him  with  an  astonishment 
tinged  with  disgust.  His  eyes  were  now 
glassy  and  his  gaze  vacuous.  The  eternal 
smile  expressed  merely  stupidity  and  conceit. 

[57] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

I  turned  to  Dom  Miguel,  who  gravely 
awaited  my  reply. 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "you  are  my  father's  old 
friend.  My  uncle,  who  was  my  father's 
partner  and  is  now  my  own  associate  in 
business,  sent  me  to  you  with  the  injunction 
to  serve  you  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  This, 
by  way  of  gratitude  for  many  favors  shown 
our  house  by  you  in  the  days  when  a  friend 
counted  largely  for  success.  Being  an  Amer- 
ican, I  love  freedom.  Your  cause  shall  be 
my  cause  while  I  remain  with  you.  Of  my 
power  to  serve  you  there  may  be  question; 
but  my  loyalty  you  need  never  doubt." 

Dom  Miguel  reached  across  the  table 
and  grasped  my  hand  warmly.  Paola 
poured  himself  a  glass  of  wine  and  drank 
to  me  with  a  nod  of  his  head. 

"When  first  I  saw  you,"  said  de  Pintra, 
with  emotion,  "I  knew  we  had  gained  a 
strong  ally,  and  God  knows  we  need  trust- 
worthy friends  at  this  juncture.  The  great 
Revolution,  which  is  destined  some  day  to 
sweep  Brazil  from  Para  to  Rio  Grande  do 
Sul,  is  now  in  my  keeping.  In  my  posses- 
sion are  papers  wherein  are  inscribed  the 

[58] 


The  Chieftain 

names  of  the  patriots  who  have  joined  our 
Cause;  to  me  has  been  intrusted  the  treasure 
accumulated  for  years  to  enable  us  to  carry 
out  our  plans.  Even  those  plans — carefully 
formulated  and  known  to  but  a  few  of  my 
associates,  the  trusted  leaders — are  confided 
to  my  care.  I  cannot  risk  a  betrayal  that 
would  imperil  the  Revolution  itself  and 
destroy  all  those  concerned  in  it,  by  employ- 
ing for  secretary  a  Brazilian,  who  might 
become  a  spy  of  Dom  Pedro,  or  be  fright- 
ened by  threats  and  imprisonment." 

Leaning  forward,  he  regarded  me  ear- 
estly.  His  eyes,  so  gentle  in  repose,  now 
searched  my  own  with  fierce  intensity. 

"  I  cannot  even  trust  my  own  household," 
he  whispered;  "my  own  flesh  and  blood  has 
been  suspected  of  treason  to  the  Cause. 
There  are  spies  everywhere,  of  both  sexes, 
among  the  lowly  and  the  gentle.  So  I  ac- 
cept your  services,  Robert  Harcliffe,  and 
thank  you  in  the  name  of  the  Revolution." 

It  was  all  rather  theatric,  but  I  could  not 
question  the  sincerity  of  his  speech,  and  it 
succeeding  in  impressing  me  with  the  gravity 
of  my  new  position. 

[59] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  Come,"  said  Paola,  breaking  the  tense 
pause,  "let  us  rejoin  the  ladies." 

Five  minutes  later  he  was  at  the  piano, 
carolling  a  comic  ditty,  and  I  again  won- 
dered what  element  this  seemingly  brazen 
and  hollow  vessel  might  contain  that  could 
win  the  respect  of  a  man  like  Miguel  de 
Pintra.  Evidently  I  must,  to  some  extent, 
glean  a  definite  knowledge  of  the  Revolution 
and  its  advocates  through  a  process  of  ab- 
sorption. This  would  require  time,  as  well 
as  personal  contact  with  Dom  Miguel  and 
his  confreres,  and  my  only  hope  of  mastering 
the  situation  lay  in  a  careful  study  of  each 
personage  I  met  and  a  cautious  resistance 
of  any  temptation  to  judge  them  hastily. 
Nevertheless,  this  mocking,  irrepressive 
Francisco  Paola  had  from  the  first  moment 
of  his  acquaintance  become  an  astounding 
puzzle  to  me,  and  so  far  I  could  see  no  in- 
dication of  any  depths  to  his  character  that 
could  explain  the  esteem  in  which  he  was 
held  by  the  chief. 

But  now  his  sister's  sweet,  upturned  face 
drew  me  to  her  side,  and  I  straightway  for- 
got to  dwell  upon  the  problem. 

[60] 


CHAPTER  V 


MADAM  IZABEL 

I  slept  well  in  my  pleasant  room,  but 
wakened  early,  the  bright  sunshine  pouring 
in  at  my  open  window  and  the  songs  of  many 
birds  sounding  a  lively  chorus. 

After  a  simple  toilet  I  sprang  through  a 
low  window  to  the  ground  and  wandered 
away  among  the  flowers  and  shrubbery.  It 
was  in  my  thoughts  to  revisit  the  scene  of 
my  first  meeting  with  Lesba,  but  I  had  no 
hope  of  finding  her  abroad  at  that  hour  until 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  white  gown  through 
a  small  arbor.  The  vision  enchanted  me, 
and  after  pausing  a  moment  to  feast  my  eyes 
upon  her  loveliness,  I  hastily  approached 
to  find  her  cutting  roses  for  the  breakfast- 
table.  She  greeted  me  in  her  shy  manner, 
but  in  a  way  that  made  me  feel  I  was  not  in- 
truding. After  a  few  conventional  remarks 
she  asked,  abruptly: 

"How  do  you  like  Dom  Miguel  ?" 

[61] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Very  much,"  said  I,  smiling  at  her 
eagerness.  "He  seems  eminently  worthy 
of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  his  com- 
patriots." 

"He  is  a  born  leader  of  men,"  she  re- 
joined, brightly,  "and  not  a  rebel  of  us  all 
would  hesitate  to  die  for  him.  How  do  you 
like  my  brother  ?" 

I  was  sorry  she  asked  the  question,  for 
its  abruptness  nearly  took  my  breath  away, 
and  I  did  not  wish  to  grieve  her.  To  gain 
time  I  laughed,  and  was  answered  with  a 
frown  that  served  to  warn  me. 

"Really,  donzella,"  I  made  haste  to  say, 
"  if  I  must  be  quite  frank,  your  brother  puz- 
zles me.  But  I  think  I  shall  like  him  when 
I  understand  him  better." 

She  shook  her  head  as  if  disappointed. 

"No  one  ever  understands  Francisco 
but  me,"  she  returned,  regretfully. 

"Does  he  understand  himself?"  I  fool- 
ishly asked. 

The  girl  looked  at  me  with  a  gleam  of 
contempt. 

"  Sir,  my  brother's  services  are  recognized 
throughout  all  Brazil.  Even  Fonseca  re- 

[62] 


Madam  Izabel 

spects  his  talents,  and  the  suspicious  Piexoto 
trusts  him  implicitly.  Francisco's  intimate 
friends  positively  adore  him!  Ah,  senhor, 
it  is  not  necessary  for  his  sister  to  sing  his 
praises." 

I  bowed  gravely. 

"Let  me  hope,  donzella,  that  your 
brother  will  soon  count  me  among  his  inti- 
mates." It  was  the  least  I  could  say  in 
answer  to  the  pleading  look  in  her  eyes,  and 
to  my  surprise  it  seemed  to  satisfy  her,  for 
she  blushed  with  pleasure. 

"I  am  sure  he  likes  you  already,"  she 
announced;  "for  he  told  me  so  as  he  bade 
me  good  by  this  morning." 

*  Your  brother  has  gone  away  ?" 

"He  started  upon  his  return  to  court  an 
hour  ago." 

"To  court!"  I  exclaimed,  amazed  at  his 
audacity. 

She  seemed  amused. 

"  Did  you  not  know,  senhor  ?  Francisco 
Paola  is  Dom  Pedro's  Minister  of  Police." 

I  acknowledged  that  the  news  surprised 
me.  That  the  Emperor's  Minister  of  Police 
should  be  a  trusted  leader  of  the  Revolu- 

[63] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

tionary  party  seemed  incomprehensible;  but 
I  had  already  begun  to  realize  that  ex- 
traordinary conditions  prevailed  in  Brazil. 
Perhaps  the  thing  that  caused  me  most 
astonishment  was  that  this  apparently  con- 
ceited and  empty-headed  fellow  had  ever 
been  selected  for  a  post  so  important  as  Min- 
ister of  Police.  Yet  the  fact  explained 
clearly  how  I  had  received  secret  protection 
from  the  moment  of  my  landing  at  Rio  until 
I  had  joined  Dom  Miguel. 

The  girl  was  laughing  at  me  now,  and 
her  loveliness  made  me  resolve  not  to  waste 
more  of  these  precious  moments  in  political 
discussion.  She  was  nothing  loath  to  drop 
the  subject,  and  soon  we  were  chattering 
merrily  of  the  flowers  and  birds,  the  dew- 
drops  and  the  sunshine,  and  all  those  incon- 
sequent things  that  are  wont  to  occupy 
youthful  lips  while  hearts  beat  fast  and 
glances  shyly  mingle.  When,  at  length,  we 
sauntered  up  the  path  to  breakfast  I  had  for- 
gotten the  great  conspiracy  altogether,  and 
congratulated  myself  cordially  upon  the  fact 
that  Lesba  and  I  were  well  on  the  way  to 
becoming  good  friends. 

[641 


Madam  Izabel 

Madam  Izabel  did  not  appear  at  the 
morning  meal,  and  immediately  it  was  over 
Dom  Miguel  carried  me  to  his  study,  where 
he  began  to  acquaint  me  thoroughly  with 
the  standing  and  progress  of  the  proposed 
revolution,  informing  me,  meantime,  of  my 
duties  as  secretary. 

While  we  were  thus  occupied  the  door 
softly  opened  and  Izabel  de  Mar  entered. 

She  cast  an  odd  glance  in  my  direction, 
bowed  coldly  to  her  father,  and  then  seated 
herself  at  a  small  table  littered  with  papers. 

A  cloud  appeared  upon  Dom  Miguel's 
brow.  He  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then 
addressed  her  in  a  formal  tone. 

"I  shall  not  need  you  to-day,  Izabel." 

She  turned  upon  him  with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"The  letters  to  Piexoto  are  not  finished, 
sir,"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  know,  Izabel;  I  know.  But  Mr. 
Harcliffe  will  act  as  my  secretary,  hereafter; 
therefore  he  will  attend  to  these  details." 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  flashing, 
but  her  face  as  immobile  as  ever. 

"I  am  discharged?"  she  demanded. 

"Not  that,  Izabel,"  he  hastened  to  reply. 

[65] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Your  services  have  been  of  inestimable 
value  to  the  Cause.  But  they  are  wearing 
out  your  strength,  and  some  of  our  friends 
thought  you  were  too  closely  confined  and 
needed  rest.  Moreover,  a  man,  they  con- 
sidered— 

"Enough!"  said  she,  proudly.  "To  me 
it  is  a  pleasure  to  toil  in  the  cause  of  free- 
dom. But  my  services,  it  seems,  are  not 
agreeable  to  your  leaders — rather,  let  us  say, 
to  that  sly  and  treacherous  spy,  Francisco 
Paola!"  ' 

His  face  grew  red,  and  I  imagined  he  was 
about  to  reply  angrily;  but  the  woman  si- 
lenced him  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

"O,  I  know  your  confidence  in  the  Em- 
peror's Minister,  my  father;  a  confidence 
that  will  lead  you  all  to  the  hangman,  unless 
you  beware !  But  why  should  I  speak  ?  I 
am  not  trusted,  it  seems ;  I,  the  daughter  of 
de  Pintra,  who  is  chief  of  the  Revolution. 
This  foreigner,  whose  heart  is  cold  in  our 
Cause,  is  to  take  my  place.  Very  well.  I 
will  return  to  the  court — to  my  husband." 

"Izabel!" 

"Do  not  fear.     I  will  not  betray  you. 

[66] 


Madam  Izabel 

If  betrayal  comes,  look  to  your  buffoon, 
the  Minister  of  Police;  look  to  your  cold 
American!" 

She  pointed  at  me  with  so  scornful  a 
gesture  that  involuntarily  I  recoiled,  for  the 
attack  was  unexpected.  Then  my  lady 
stalked  from  the  room  like  a  veritable  queen 
of  tragedy. 

Dom  Miguel  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the 
door  closed,  and  rubbed  his  forehead  vig- 
orously with  his  handkerchief. 

"That  ordeal  is  at  last  over,'*  he  mut- 
tered; "and  I  have  dreaded  it  like  a  coward. 
Listen,  senhor!  My  daughter,  whose  pa- 
triotism is  not  well  understood,  has  been 
suspected  by  some  of  my  associates.  She 
has  a  history,  has  Izabel — a  sad  history,  my 
friend. "  For  a  moment  Dom  Miguel  bowed 
his  face  in  his  hands,  and  when  he  raised  his 
head  again  the  look  of  pained  emotion  upon 
his  features  lent  his  swarthy  skin  a  grayish 
tinge. 

'Years  ago  she  loved  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  one  Leon  de  Mar — of  French  de- 
scent, who  is  even  now  a  favorite  with 
the  Emperor,"  he  resumed.  "Against  my 

[67] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

wishes  she  married  him,  and  her  life  at  the 
court  proved  a  most  unhappy  one.  De  Mar 
is  a  profligate,  a  rake,  a  gamester,  and  a 
scoundrel.  He  made  my  daughter  suffer 
all  the  agonies  of  hell.  But  she  uttered  no 
complaint  and  I  knew  nothing  of  her  sorrow. 
At  last,  unable  to  bear  longer  the  scorn  and 
abuse  of  her  husband,  Izabel  came  to  me 
and  confessed  the  truth,  asking  me  to  give 
her  the  shelter  of  a  home.  That  was  years 
ago,  senhor.  I  made  her  my  secretary,  and 
found  her  eager  to  engage  in  our  patriotic 
conspiracy.  It  is  my  belief  that  she  has 
neither  seen  nor  heard  from  de  Mar  since; 
but  others  have  suspected  her.  It  is  hard 
indeed,  Robert,  not  to  be  suspicious  in  this 
whirlpool  of  intrigue  wherein  we  are  en- 
gulfed. A  few  weeks  ago  Paola  swore  that 
he  found  Izabel  in  our  garden  at  midnight 
engaged  in  secret  conversation  with  that 
very  husband  from  whom  she  had  fled.  I 
have  no  doubt  he  was  deceived ;  but  he  re- 
ported it  to  the  Secret  Council,  which  in- 
structed me  to  confide  no  further  secrets  to 
my  daughter,  and  to  secure  a  new  secretary 
as  soon  as  possible.  Hence  my  application 

[68] 


Madam  Izabel 

to  your  uncle,  and  your  timely  arrival  to 
assist  me." 

He  paused,  while  I  sat  thoughtfully  con- 
sidering his  words. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  not  wrong  my 
daughter  with  hasty  suspicions,"  he  con- 
tinued, pleadingly.  "I  do  not  wish  you  to 
confide  our  secrets  to  her,  since  I  have  myself 
refrained  from  doing  so,  out  of  respect  for 
the  wishes  of  my  associates.  But  do  not 
misjudge  Izabel,  my  friend.  When  the 
time  comes  for  action  she  will  be  found  a  true 
and  valuable  adherent  to  the  Cause.  And 
now,  let  us  to  work!" 

I  found  it  by  no  means  difficult  to  become 
interested  in  the  details  of  the  plot  to  over- 
throw the  Emperor  Dom  Pedro  and  estab- 
lish a  Brazilian  Republic.  It  was  amazing 
how  many  great  names  were  enrolled  in  the 
Cause  and  how  thoroughly  the  spirit  of  free- 
dom had  corrupted  the  royal  army,  the 
court,  and  even  the  Emperor's  trusted  police. 
And  I  learned,  with  all  this,  to  develop  both 
admiration  and  respect  for  the  man  whose 
calm  judgment  had  so  far  directed  the 
mighty  movement  and  systematized  every 

[69] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

branch  of  the  gigantic  conspiracy.  Truly, 
as  my  fair  Lesba  had  said,  Dom  Miguel  de 
Pintra  was  "a  born  leader  of  men." 

Night  after  night  there  assembled  at  his 
house  groups  of  conspirators  who  arrived 
secretly  and  departed  without  even  the  ser- 
vants having  knowledge  of  their  visit.  Dur- 
ing the  counsels  every  approach  to  the  house 
was  thoroughly  guarded  to  ward  against 
surprise. 

Strong  men  were  these  republican  lead- 
ers; alert,  bold,  vigilant  in  serving  the  Cause 
wherein  they  risked  their  lives  and  fortunes. 
One  by  one  I  came  to  know  and  admire 
them,  and  they  spoke  freely  in  my  presence 
and  trusted  me.  Through  my  intercourse 
with  these  champions  of  liberty,  my  horizon 
began  to  broaden,  thus  better  fitting  me 
for  my  duties. 

Francisco  Paola,  the  Emperor's  Minister, 
came  frequently  to  the  conferences  of  the 
Secret  Council.  Always  he  seemed  as  sim- 
pering, frivolous,  and  absurd  as  on  the  day 
I  first  met  him.  To  his  silly  jokes  and  in- 
consequent chatter  none  paid  the  slightest 
attention;  but  when  a  real  problem  arose 

[70] 


Madam  Izabel 

and  they  turned  questioningly  to  Paola,  he 
would  answer  in  a  few  lightly  spoken  words 
that  proved  at  once  shrewd  and  convincing. 
The  others  were  wont  to  accept  his  decisions 
with  gravity  and  act  upon  them. 

I  have  said  that  Paola  impressed  me  as 
being  conceited.  This  might  well  be  true 
in  regard  to  his  personal  appearance,  his 
social  accomplishments — playing  the  piano 
and  guitar,  singing,  riding,  and  the  like — but 
I  never  heard  him  speak  lightly  of  the  Cause 
or  boast  of  his  connection  with  it.  Indeed, 
he  exhibited  a  queer  mingling  of  folly  and 
astuteness.  His  friends  appeared  to  con- 
sider his  flippancy  and  self-adulation  as  a 
mask  that  effectually  concealed  his  real 
talents.  Doubtless  the  Emperor  had  the 
same  idea  when  he  made  the  fellow  his 
Minister  of  Police.  But  I,  studying  the 
man  with  fervid  interest,  found  it  difficult 
to  decide  whether  the  folly  was  a  mask,  or 
whether  Paola  had  two  natures — the  second 
a  sub-conscious  intelligence  upon  which  he 
was  able  to  draw  in  a  crisis. 

He  certainly  took  no  pains  to  impress 
any  one  favorably,  and  his  closest  friends 

[71] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

were,  I  discovered,  frequently  disgusted  by 
his  actions. 

From  the  first  my  judgment  of  the  man 
had  been  influenced  by  his  sister's  enthu- 
siastic championship.  Lesba  seemed  fully 
in  her  brother's  confidence,  and  although  she 
was  not  a  recognized  member  of  the  con- 
spiracy, I  found  that  she  was  thoroughly 
conversant  with  every  detail  of  our  progress. 
This  information  must  certainly  have  come 
from  Francisco,  and  as  I  relied  absolutely 
upon  Lesba's  truth  and  loyalty,  her  belief 
in  her  brother  impressed  me  to  the  extent 
of  discrediting  Madam  Izabel's  charge  that 
he  was  a  traitor. 

Nevertheless,  Paola  had  acted  villainous- 
ly in  thrusting  this  same  charge  upon  a 
woman.  What  object,  I  wondered,  could 
he  have  in  accusing  Izabel  to  her  own 
father,  in  falsely  swearing  that  he  had  seen 
her  in  conversation  with  Leon  de  Mar — 
the  man  from  whose  ill  treatment  she  had 
fled? 

Madam  Izabel  had  not  returned  to  the 
court,  as  she  had  threatened  in  her  indignant 
anger.  Perhaps  she  realized  what  it  would 

[72] 


Madam  Izabel 

mean  to  place  herself  again  within  the  power 
of  the  husband  she  had  learned  to  hate  and 
despise.  She  still  remained  an  inmate  of 
her  father's  mansion,  cold  and  impassive  as 
ever.  Dom  Miguel  treated  her  with  rare 
consideration  on  every  occasion  of  their 
meeting,  seeking  to  reassure  her  as  to  his 
perfect  faith  in  her  loyalty  and  his  sorrow 
that  his  associates  had  cast  a  slur  upon  her 
character. 

To  me  the  chief  was  invariably  kind,  and 
his  gentleness  and  stalwart  manhood  soon 
won  my  esteem.  I  found  myself  working 
for  the  good  of  the  cause  with  as  much  ardor 
as  the  most  eager  patriot  of  them  all,  but 
my  reward  was  enjoyed  as  much  in  Lesba's 
smiles  as  in  the  approbation  of  Dom  Miguel. 

That  the  government  was  well  aware  of 
our  plot  there  was  no  question.  Through 
secret  channels  we  learned  that  even  the 
midnight  meetings  of  the  Secret  Council 
were  known  to  the  Emperor.  The  identity 
of  the  leaders  had  so  far  been  preserved, 
since  they  came  masked  and  cloaked  to  the 
rendezvous,  but  so  many  of  the  details  of  the 
conspiracy  had  in  some  way  leaked  out  that 

[73] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

I  marveled  the  Emperor's  heavy  hand  had 
not  descended  upon  us  long  ago.  Of  course 
de  Pintra  was  a  marked  man,  but  they  dared 
not  arrest  him  until  they  had  procured  all 
the  information  they  desired,  otherwise  they 
would  defeat  their  own  purpose. 

One  stormy  night,  as  I  sat  alone  with 
Dom  Miguel  in  his  study,  I  mentioned  my 
surprise  that  in  view  of  the  government's 
information  of  our  plot  we  were  not  summa- 
rily arrested.  It  was  not  a  council  night, 
and  we  had  been  engaged  in  writing  letters. 

"  I  suppose  they  fear  to  precipitate  trou- 
ble between  such  powerful  factions,"  he 
answered,  somewhat  wearily.  "The  head 
of  the  conspiracy  is  indeed  here,  but  its 
branches  penetrate  to  every  province  of  the 
country,  and  were  an  outbreak  to  occur 
here  the  republicans  of  Brazil  would  rise  as 
one  man.  Dom  Pedro,  poor  soul,  does  not 
know  where  to  look  for  loyal  support.  His 
ministry  is  estranged,  and  he  is  not  even  sure 
of  his  army." 

"But  should  they  discover  who  our  lead- 
ers are,  and  capture  them,  there  would  be 
no  one  to  lead  the  uprising,"  I  suggested. 

[74] 


Madam  Izabel 

"True,"  assented  the  chief.  "But  it  is 
to  guard  against  such  a  coup  that  our  Coun- 
cil is  divided  into  three  sections.  Only  one- 
third  of  the  leaders  could  be  captured  at  any 
one  time.  But  I  do  not  fear  such  an  attempt, 
as  every  movement  at  the  capital  is  reported 
to  me  at  once." 

"Suppose  they  were  to  strike  you  down, 
sir.  What  then  ?  Who  would  carry  out 
your  plans  ?  Where  would  be  the  guiding 
hand  ?" 

For  a  moment  he  sat  thoughtfully  re- 
garding me. 

"I  hope  I  shall  be  spared  until  I  have 
accomplished  my  task,"  he  said,  at  length. 
"I  know  my  danger  is  great;  yet  it  is  not 
for  myself  I  fear.  Lest  the  Cause  be  lost 
through  premature  exposure,  I  have  taken 
care  to  guard  against  that,  should  the  emer- 
gency arise.  Light  me  that  candle  yonder, 
Robert,  and  I  will  reveal  to  you  one  of  our 
most  important  secrets." 

He  motioned  toward  the  mantel,  smiling 
meantime  at  my  expression  of  surprise. 

I  lighted  the  candle,  as  directed,  and 
turned  toward  him  expectantly.  He  drew  a 
[75] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

rug  from  before  the  fireplace,  and  stooping 
over,  touched  a  button  that  released  a  spring 
in  the  flooring. 

A  square  aperture  appeared,  through 
which  a  man  might  descend,  and  peering 
over  his  shoulder  I  saw  a  flight  of  stairs 
reaching  far  downward. 

De  Pintra  turned  and  took  the  candle 
from  my  hand. 

"Follow  me,"  he  said. 


[76] 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  SECRET  VAULT 

The  stairs  led  us  beneath  the  foundations 
of  the  house  and  terminated  in  a  domed 
chamber  constructed  of  stone  and  about  ten 
feet  in  diameter. 

In  the  floor  of  this  chamber  was  a  trap- 
door, composed  of  many  thicknesses  of 
steel,  and  so  heavy  that  it  could  be  raised 
only  by  a  stout  iron  windlass,  the  chain  of 
which  was  welded  to  a  ring  in  the  door's 
face. 

Dom  Miguel  handed  me  the  candle  and 
began  turning  the  windlass.  Gradually 
but  without  noise  the  heavy  door  of  metal 
rose,  and  disclosed  a  still  more  massive  sur- 
face underneath. 

This  second  plate,  of  highly  burnished 
steel,  was  covered  with  many  small  inden- 
tations, of  irregular  formation.  It  was 
about  three  feet  square  and  the  curious  in- 
dentations, each  one  of  which  had  evidently 

[77] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

been  formed  with  great  care,  were  scattered 
over  every  inch  of  the  surface. 

"Put  out  the  light,"  said  de  Pintra. 

I  obeyed,  leaving  us  in  total  darkness. 

Next  moment,  as  I  listened  intently,  I 
heard  a  slight  grating  noise,  followed  by  a 
soft  shooting  of  many  bolts.  Then  a  match 
flickered,  and  Dom  Miguel  held  it  to  the 
wick  and  relighted  the  candle. 

The  second  door  had  swung  upward  upon 
hinges,  showing  three  iron  steps  that  led  into 
a  vault  below. 

The  chief  descended  and  I  followed ;  not, 
however,  without  a  shuddering  glance  at 
the  great  door  that  stood  suspended  as  if 
ready  to  crash  down  upon  our  heads  and 
entomb  us. 

Just  within  the  entrance  an  electric 
light,  doubtless  fed  by  a  storage  battery, 
was  turned  on,  plainly  illuminating  the 
place. 

I  found  the  vault  lined  with  thick  plates 
of  steel,  riveted  firmly  together.  In  the 
center  was  a  small  table  and  two  wooden 
stools.  Shelves  were  ranged  around  the 
walls  and  upon  them  were  books,  papers, 

[78] 


The  Secret  Vault 

and  vast  sums  of  money,  both  in  bank-notes 
and  gold. 

"Here,"  said  my  companion,  glancing 
proudly  around  him,  "  are  our  sinews  of  war; 
our  records  and  funds  and  plans  of  opera- 
tion. Should  Dom  Pedro's  agents  gain 
access  to  this  room  they  would  hold  in  their 
hands  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  many  of  the 
noblest  families  in  Brazil — and  our  con- 
spiracy would  be  nipped  in  the  bud.  You 
may  know  how  greatly  I  trust  you  when  I 
say  that  even  my  daughter  does  not  guess 
the  existence  of  this  vault.  Only  a  few  of 
the  Secret  Council  have  ever  gained  admit- 
tance here,  and  the  secret  of  opening  the 
inner  door  is  known  only  to  myself  and  one 
other — Francisco  Paola." 

"Paola!"  I  exclaimed. 

:<Yes;  it  was  he  who  conceived  the  idea 
of  this  vault ;  it  was  his  genius  that  planned 
a  door  which  defies  any  living  man  to  open 
without  a  clear  knowledge  of  its  secret. 
Even  he,  its  inventor,  could  not  pass  the 
door  without  my  assistance ;  for  although  he 
understands  the  method,  the  means  are  in 
my  possession.  For  this  reason  I  alone 

[79] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

am  responsible  for  the  safekeeping  of  our 
records  and  treasure." 

"The  air  is  close  and  musty,"  said  I, 
feeling  oppressed  in  breathing. 

He  looked  upward. 

"A  small  pipe  leads  to  the  upper  air, 
permitting  foul  vapors  to  escape,"  said  he; 
"but  only  through  the  open  door  is  fresh 
air  admitted.  Perhaps  there  should  be  bet- 
ter ventilation,  yet  that  is  an  unimportant 
matter,  for  I  seldom  remain  long  in  this 
place.  It  is  a  store-house — a  secret  crypt— 
not  a  work-room.  My  custom  has  been  to 
carry  all  our  records  and  papers  here  each 
morning,  after  they  have  been  in  use,  that 
they  may  be  safe  from  seizure  or  prying  eyes. 
But  such  trips  are  arduous,  and  I  am  not 
very  strong.  Therefore  I  will  ask  you  to 
accompany  me,  hereafter." 

"That  I  shall  do  willingly,"  I  re- 
plied. 

When  we  had  passed  through  the  door 
on  our  return  the  chief  again  extinguished 
the  light  while  he  manipulated  the  trap. 
Afterward  the  windlass  allowed  the  outer 
plate  of  metal  to  settle  firmly  into  place,  and 

[80] 


The  Secret  Vault 

we  proceeded  along  the  passage  and  returned 
to  the  study. 

Many  trips  did  I  make  to  the  secret 
vault  thereafter,  but  never  could  I  under- 
stand in  what  manner  the  great  door  of 
shining  steel  was  secured,  as  Dom  Miguel 
always  opened  and  closed  it  while  we  were 
in  total  darkness. 

As  the  weeks  rolled  by  I  not  only  became 
deeply  interested  in  my  work,  but  conceived 
a  still  greater  admiration  for  the  one  man 
whose  powerful  intelligence  directed  what 
I  knew  to  be  a  gigantic  conspiracy. 

Spies  were  everywhere  about  Dom  Mi- 
guel. One  day  we  discovered  his  steward — 
an  old  and  trusted  retainer  of  the  family — 
to  be  in  the  Emperor's  pay.  But  de  Pintra 
merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said 
nothing.  Such  a  person  could  do  little  to 
imperil  the  cause,  for  its  important  secrets 
could  not  be  surprised.  The  grim  vault 
guarded  them  well. 

My  duties  occupying  me  only  at  night, 
my  days  were  wholly  my  own,  and  they 
passed  very  pleasantly  indeed,  for  my 
acquaintance  with  Lesba  Paola  had  ripened 

[81] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

into  a  close  friendship  between  us — a  friend- 
ship I  was  eager  to  resolve  into  a  closer  rela- 
tion. 

But  Lesba,  although  frank  and  ingen- 
uous in  all  our  intercourse,  had  an  effectual 
way  of  preventing  the  declarations  of  love 
which  were  ever  on  my  tongue,  and  I  found 
it  extremely  difficult  to  lead  our  conversation 
into  channels  that  would  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  open  my  heart  to  her. 

She  was  an  expert  horsewoman,  and  we 
took  many  long  rides  together,  during  which 
she  pointed  out  to  me  the  estates  of  all  the 
grandees  in  the  neighborhood.  Dom  Mi- 
guel, whose  love  for  the  beautiful  girl  was 
very  evident,  seemed  to  encourage  our  com- 
panionship, and  often  spoke  of  her  with 
great  tenderness. 

He  would  dwell  with  especial  pride  upon 
the  aristocratic  breeding  of  his  ward,  which, 
to  do  him  justice,  he  valued  more  for  its 
effect  upon  other  noble  families  than  for  any 
especial  advantage  it  lent  to  Lesba  herself; 
for  while  Dom  Miguel  was  thoroughly 
republican  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  he 
realized  the  advantages  to  be  gained  by 

[82] 


The  Secret  Vault 

interesting  the  best  families  of  Brazil  in  the 
fortunes  of  his  beloved  Cause,  and  one  by 
one  he  was  cleverly  succeeding  in  winning 
them.  My  familiarity  with  the  records 
taught  me  that  the  Revolution  was  being 
backed  by  the  flower  of  Brazilian  nobility— 
the  most  positive  assurance  in  my  eyes  of  the 
justice  and  timeliness  of  the  great  move- 
ment for  liberty.  The  idea  that  monarchs 
derive  their  authority  from  divine  sources— 
so  prevalent  amongst  the  higher  classes — 
had  dissolved  before  the  leader's  powerful 
arguments  and  the  object  lessons  Dom 
Pedro's  corrupt  ministry  constantly  afford- 
ed. All  thoughtful  people  had  come  to  a 
realization  that  liberty  was  but  a  step  from 
darkness  into  light,  a  bursting  of  the  shac- 
kles that  had  oppressed  them  since  the  day 
that  Portugal  had  declared  the  province  of 
Brazil  an  Empire,  and  set  a  scion  of  her 
royal  family  to  rule  its  people  with  auto- 
cratic sway. 

And  Lesba,  sprung  from  the  bluest  blood 
in  all  the  land,  had  great  influence  in  awaken- 
ing, in  those  families  she  visited,  an  earnest 
desire  for  a  republic.  Her  passionate  ap- 

[83] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

peals  were  constantly  inspiring  her  fellows 
with  an  enthusiatic  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  this  talent  was  duly  appreciated 
by  Dom  Miguel,  whose  admiration  for  the 
girl's  simple  but  direct  methods  of  making 
converts  was  unbounded. 

"  Lesba  is  a  rebel  to  her  very  finger-tips," 
said  he,  "  and  her  longing  to  see  her  country 
a  republic  is  exceeded  by  that  of  no  man 
among  us.  But  we  are  chary  of  admitting 
women  to  our  councils,  so  my  little  girl  must 
be  content  to  watch  for  the  great  day  when 
the  cause  of  freedom  shall  prevail." 

However,  she  constantly  surprised  me 
by  her  intimate  knowledge  of  our  progress. 
As  we  were  riding  one  day  she  asked: 

"Were  you  not  impressed  by  your  visit 
to  the  secret  vault  ?" 

"The  secret  vault!"  I  exclaimed.  "Do 
you  know  of  it  ?" 

"I  can  explain  every  inch  of  its  con- 
struction," she  returned,  with  a  laugh; 
"everything,  indeed,  save  the  secret  by 
means  of  which  one  may  gain  admission. 
Was  it  not  Francisco's  idea  ?  And  is  it  not 
exceedingly  clever  ?" 

[84] 


The  Secret  Vault 

"It  certainly  is,"  I  admitted. 

"It  was  built  by  foreign  workmen, 
brought  to  Brazil  secretly,  and  for  that  very 
purpose.  Afterward  the  artisans  were  sent 
home  again ;  and  not  one  of  them,  I  believe, 
could  again  find  his  way  to  my  uncle's  house, 
for  every  precaution  was  taken  to  prevent 
their  discovering  its  location." 

"That  was  well  done,"  said  I. 

"All  that  Francisco  undertakes  is  well 
done,"  she  answered  simply. 

This  faith  in  her  perplexing  brother  was 
so  perfect  that  I  never  ventured  to  oppose 
it.  We  could  not  have  remained  friends 
had  I  questioned  either  his  truth  or 
ability. 

Madam  Izabel  I  saw  but  seldom,  as  she 
avoided  the  society  of  the  family  and  pre- 
ferred the  seclusion  of  her  own  apartments. 
On  the  rare  occasions  of  our  meeting  she 
treated  me  with  frigid  courtesy,  resenting 
any  attempt  upon  my  part  to  draw  her  into 
conversation. 

For  a  time  it  grieved  me  that  Dom  Mi- 
guel's daughter  should  regard  me  with  so 
much  obvious  dislike  and  suspicion.  Her 

[85] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

sad  story  had  impressed  me  greatly,  and  I 
could  understand  how  her  proud  nature  had 
resented  the  slanders  of  Francisco  Paola, 
and  writhed  under  them.  But  one  evening 
an  incident  occurred  that  served  to  content 
me  with  Madame  IzabeFs  aversion,  and  led 
me  to  suspect  that  the  Minister  of  Police  had 
not  been  so  guilty  as  I  had  deemed  him. 

It  was  late,  and  Dom  Miguel  had  pre- 
ceded me  to  the  domed  chamber  while  I 
carried  the  records  and  papers  to  be  de- 
posited within  the  vault. 

After  raising  the  first  trap  my  employer, 
as  usual,  extinguished  the  candle.  I  heard 
the  customary  low,  grating  noise,  but  before 
the  shooting  of  the  bolts  reached  my  ears 
there  was  a  sharp  report,  followed  by  a  vivid 
flash,  and  turning  instantly  I  beheld  Madam 
Isabel  standing  beside  us,  holding  in  her 
hand  a  lighted  match  and  peering  eagerly 
at  the  surface  of  the  trap. 

My  eyes  followed  hers,  and  while  Dom 
Miguel  stood  as  if  petrified  with  amazement 
I  saw  the  glitter  of  a  gold  ring  protruding 
from  one  of  the  many  curious  indentations 
upon  the  plate.  The  next  instant  the  match 

[86] 


The  Secret  Vault 

was  dashed  from  her  grasp  and  she  gave  a 
low  cry  of  pain. 

"Light  the  candle!"  commanded  de 
Pintra's  voice,  fiercely. 

I  obeyed.  He  was  holding  the  woman 
fast  by  her  wrist.  The  ring  had  disappeared, 
and  the  mystery  of  the  trap  seemed  as  in- 
scrutable as  ever. 

Dom  Miguel,  greatly  excited  and  mut- 
tering imprecations  all  the  way,  dragged  his 
daughter  through  the  passage  and  up  the 
stairs.  I  followed  them  silently  to  the  chief's 
study.  Then,  casting  the  woman  from  him, 
de  Pintra  confronted  her  with  blazing  eyes, 
and  demanded: 

"How  dare  you  spy  upon  me  ?" 

Madam  Izabel  had  become  cool  as  her 
father  grew  excited.  She  actually  smiled — 
a  hard,  bitter  smile — as  she  defiantly  looked 
into  his  face  and  answered : 

"Spy!  You  forget,  sir,  that  I  am  your 
daughter.  I  came  to  your  room  to  seek  you. 
You  were  not  here;  but  the  door  to  this  stair- 
way was  displaced,  and  a  cold  air  came 
through  it.  Fearing  that  some  danger  men- 
aced you  I  passed  down  the  stairs  until, 

[87] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

hearing  a  noise,  I  paused  to  strike  a  match. 
You  can  best  explain  the  contretemps." 

Long  and  silently  Dom  Miguel  gazed 
upon  his  daughter.  Then  he  said,  abruptly, 
"  Leave  the  room !" 

She  bowed  coldly,  with  a  mocking  ex- 
pression in  her  dark  eyes,  and  withdrew. 

As  she  passed  me  I  noted  upon  her  cheeks 
an  unwonted  flush  that  rendered  her  strik- 
ingly beautiful. 

Deep  in  thought  de  Pintra  paced  the 
floor  with  nervous  strides.  Finally  he 
turned  toward  me. 

"What  did  you  sec  ?"  he  asked,  sharply. 

"A  ring,"  I  answered.  "It  lay  upon  the 
trap,  and  the  stone  was  fitted  into  one  of  the 
numerous  indentations." 

"  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  with 
a  gesture  of  despair. 

"Then  she  saw  it  also,"  he  murmured, 
"and  my  secret  is  a  secret  no  longer." 

I  remained  silent,  looking  upon  him 
curiously,  but  in  deep  sympathy. 

Suddenly  he  held  out  his  hand.  Upon 
the  little  finger  was  an  emerald  ring,  the 
stone  appearing  to  be  of  no  exceptional 

D88] 


The  Secret  Vault 

value.  Indeed,  the  trinket  was  calculated 
to  attract  so  little  attention  that  I  had  barely 
noticed  it  before,  although  I  remembered 
that  my  employer  always  wore  it. 

"This,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "is  the  key  to 
the  vault." 

I  nodded.  The  truth  had  flashed  upon 
me  the  moment  Madam  Izabel  had  struck 
the  match.  And  now,  looking  at  it  closely, 
I  saw  that  the  stone  was  oddly  cut,  although 
the  fact  was  not  likely  to  impress  one  who 
was  ignorant  of  the  purpose  for  which  it  was 
made. 

The  chief  resumed  his  pacing,  but  pres- 
ently paused  to  say: 

"If  anything  happens  to  me,  my  friend, 
be  sure  to  secure  this  ring  above  all  else. 
Get  it  to  Paola,  or  to  Fonseca,  or  Piexoto  as 
soon  as  possible — you  know  where  they  may 
be  found.  Should  it  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  royalists  the  result  would  be  fatal." 

"But  would  either  of  your  associates  be 
able  to  use  the  ring,  even  if  it  passed  into 
their  possession  ?"  I  asked. 

"There  are  two  hundred  indentations 
in  the  door  of  the  trap,"  answered  de  Pintra, 

[89] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"and  the  stone  of  the  ring  is  so  cut  that  it 
fits  but  one  of  these.  Still,  if  our  friends 
have  time  to  test  each  cavity,  they  are  sure 
to  find  the  right  one,  and  then  the  stone  of 
my  ring  acts  as  a  key.  My  real  safety,  as 
you  will  observe,  lay  in  the  hope  that  no  one 
would  discover  that  my  ring  unlocked  the 
vault.  Now  that  Izabel  has  learned  the 
truth  I  must  guard  the  ring  as  I  would  my 
life — more,  the  lives  of  all  our  patriotic  band. 

"Since  you  suspect  her  loyalty,  why  do 
you  not  send  your  daughter  away  ?"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"I  prefer  to  keep  her  under  my  own  eye. 
And,  strange  as  her  actions  of  to-night  seem, 
I  still  hesitate  to  believe  that  my  own  child 
would  conspire  to  ruin  me." 

"The  secret  is  not  your  own,  sir,"  I 
ventured  to  say. 

"True,"  he  acknowledged,  flushing  deep- 
ly, "the  secret  is  not  my  own.  It  belongs 
to  the  Cause.  And  its  discovery  would 
jeopardize  the  revolution  itself.  For  this 
reason  I  shall  keep  Izabel  with  me,  where, 
admitting  she  has  the  inclination  to  betray 
us,  she  will  not  have  the  power." 

[90] 


The  Secret  Vault 

After  this  night  he  did  not  extinguish  the 
light  when  we  entered  the  vault,  evidently 
having  decided  to  trust  me  fully;  but  he 
took  pains  to  secure  the  trap  in  the  study 
floor  so  that  no  one  could  follow  us.  After 
watching  him  apply  the  key  several  times 
I  became  confident  that  I  could  find  the 
right  indentation  without  trouble  should  the 
occasion  ever  arise  for  me  to  unlock  the 
vault  unaided. 

Days  passed  by,  and  Madam  Izabel  re- 
mained as  quiet  and  reserved  as  if  she  had 
indeed  abandoned  any  further  curiosity  con- 
cerning the  secret  vault.  As  for  my  fel- 
low-rebel, the  Senhorita  Lesba,  I  rode  and 
chatted  with  her  in  the  firm  conviction  that 
here,  at  least,  was  one  secret  connected  with 
the  revolution  of  which  she  was  ignorant. 


[91] 


CHAPTER  VII 

GENERAL  FONSECA 

One  evening,  as  I  entered  Dom  Miguel's 
library,  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  a 
strange  visitor.  He  did  not  wear  a  mask,  as 
did  so  many  of  the  conspirators,  even  in  the 
chief's  presence ;  but  a  long  black  cloak  swept 
in  many  folds  from  his  neck  to  his  feet. 

My  first  thought  was  to  marvel  at  his 
size,  for  he  was  considerably  above  six  feet 
in  height  and  finely  proportioned,  so  that 
his  presence  fairly  dominated  us  and  made 
the  furnishings  of  the  room  in  which  he 
stood  seem  small  and  insignificant. 

As  I  entered,  he  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  fireplace  confronting  Dom  Miguel,  whose 
face  wore  a  sad  and  tired  expression.  I 
immediately  turned  to  withdraw,  but  a  ges- 
ture from  the  stranger  arrested  me. 

"Robert,"  said  Dom  Miguel,  "I  present 
you  to  General  Manuel  Deodoro  da  Fon- 
seca." 

[92] 


General  Fonseca 

I  bowed  profoundly.  General  Fonseca 
was  not  only  a  commander  of  the  Emperor's 
royal  army,  but  Chief  Marshal  of  the  forces 
of  the  Revolutionary  party.  I  had  never 
seen  the  great  man  before,  as  his  duties  re- 
quired his  constant  presence  at  the  capital; 
but  no  figure  loomed  larger  than  his  in  the 
affairs  of  the  conspiracy. 

Seldom  have  I  met  with  a  keener  or  more 
disconcerting  glance  than  that  which  shot 
from  his  full  black  eyes  as  I  stood  before  him. 
It  seemed  to  search  out  my  every  thought, 
and  I  had  the  sensation  of  being  before  a 
judge  who  would  show  no  mercy  to  one  who 
strove  to  dissemble  in  his  presence. 

But  the  glance  was  brief,  withal.  In  a 
moment  he  had  seized  my  hand  and  gripped 
it  painfully.  Then  he  turned  to  Dom 
Miguel. 

"Let  me  hear  the  rest  of  your  story," 
said  he. 

"  There  is  nothing  more,  General.  Izabel 
has  learned  my  secret,  it  is  true;  but  she  is 
my  daughter.  I  will  vouch  for  her  faith." 

"Then  will  not  I!"  returned  Fonseca, 
in  his  deep,  vibrant  tones.  "Never  have  I 

[93iJ 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

believed  the  tale  of  her  estrangement  from 
that  scoundrel,  Leon  de  Mar.  Men  are 
seldom  traitors,  for  they  dare  not  face  the 
consequences.  Women  have  no  fear  of  man 
or  devil.  They  are  daughters  of  Delilah — 
each  and  every  one." 

He  turned  suddenly  to  me. 

"Will  you  also  vouch  for  Senhora  Izabel 
de  Mar?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  I  answered. 

"And  quite  right,  sir,"  he  returned,  with 
a  grim  smile.  "Never  trust  a  woman  in 
politics.  But  how  about  Francisco  Paola? 
Do  you  vouch  for  him?" 

I  hesitated,  startled  by  the  question. 

"Answer  me!"  he  commanded. 

"  I  cannot  see  that  I  am  required  to  vouch 
for  any  one,  General,"  said  I,  nettled  by  his 
manner.  "I  am  here  to  serve  the  Cause, 
not  to  judge  the  loyalty  of  its  leaders." 

"Ugh!"  said  he,  contemptuously;  and  I 
turned  my  back  upon  him,  facing  Dona 
Miguel,  over  whose  features  a  fleeting  smile 
passed. 

Fonseca  stalked  up  and  down  the  apart- 
ment, his  sword  clanking  beneath  his  cloak, 

[94] 


General  Fonseca 

and  his  spurs  clicking  like  castanets.  Then 
he  planted  his  huge  figure  before  the  chief. 

"Watch  them  both,"  said  he  brusquely; 
"your  daughter  and  your  friend.  They  are 
aware  of  our  most  important  secrets." 

De  Pintra's  face  reddened. 

"Francisco  is  true  as  steel,"  he  retorted, 
firmly.  "Not  one  of  us — including  your- 
self, General — has  done  more  to  serve  the 
Cause.  I  have  learned  to  depend  upon  his 
discretion  as  I  would  upon  my  own — or 
yours." 

The  general  frowned  and  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  his  breast  pocket. 

"Read  that,"  said  he,  tossing  it  into 
Dom  Miguel's  hand.  "It  is  a  copy  of  the 
report  made  by  Paola  to  the  Emperor  this 
morning." 

De  Pintra  glanced  at  the  paper  and  then 
gave  it  to  me,  at  the  same  time  dropping  his 
head  in  his  hands. 

I  read  the  report.  It  stated  that  the 
Minister  of  Police  had  discovered  the  exist- 
ence of  a  secret  vault  constructed  beneath 
the  mansion  of  Miguel  de  Pintra,  the  rebel 
chief.  This  vault,  the  police  thought,  con- 

[95] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

tained  important  records  of  the  conspiracy. 
It  was  built  of  double  plates  of  steel,  and  the 
entrance  was  guarded  by  a  cleverly  con- 
structed door,  which  could  only  be  unlocked 
by  means  of  a  stone  set  in  a  ring  which  was 
constantly  worn  by  Dom  Miguel  himself. 
In  conclusion  the  minister  stated  that  every 
effort  was  being  made  to  secure  possession 
of  the  ring,  when  the  rebels  would  be  at  the 
Emperor's  mercy. 

"Well,  sir,  what  do  you  think  of  Fran- 
cisco Paola  now?"  inquired  Fonseca,  with 
a  significant  smile. 

"Did  he  not  himself  invent  the  secret 
vault?"  I  asked. 

"He  did,  sir." 

"How  long  ago." 

"A  matter  of  two  years.  Is  it  not  so, 
Dom  Miguel?" 

The  chief  bowed. 

"And  until  now  Paola  has  kept  this  se- 
cret?" I  continued. 

"Until  now,  yes!"  said  the  general. 
"Until  the  vault  was  stored  with  all  our 
funds  and  the  complete  records  of  the  revo- 
lution." 

[96] 


General  Fonseca 

"Then  it  seems  clear  to  me  that  Paola, 
as  Minister  of  Police,  has  been  driven  to 
make  this  report  in  order  to  serve  the 
Cause." 

Dom  Miguel  looked  up  at  me  quickly, 
and  the  huge  general  snorted  and  stabbed 
me  with  his  terrible  eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Fon- 
seca. 

"This  report  proves,  I  fear,  that  our 
suspicions  of  Madam  Izabel  are  well  found- 
ed," I  explained,  not  daring  to  look  at  Dom 
Miguel  while  I  accused  his  daughter.  "Pa- 
ola has  doubtless  discovered  that  this  infor- 
mation regarding  the  vault  and  its  myste- 
rious key  has  either  been  forwarded  to  the 
Emperor  or  is  on  the  way  to  him.  There- 
fore he  has  forestalled  Madam  Izabel's  re- 
port, in  order  that  he  may  prove  his  depart- 
ment vigilant  in  serving  the  government,  and 
so  protect  his  high  office.  Can  you  not  see 
that  Paola's  claim  that  he  is  working  to  se- 
cure the  ring  is  but  a  ruse  to  gain  time  for 
us?  Really,  he  knows  that  he  could  obtain 
it  by  arresting  Dom  Miguel.  But  this  re- 
port will  prevent  the  Emperor  putting  his 

[97] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

man  Valcour  upon  the  case,  which  he  would 
probably  have  done  had  he  received  his  first 
information  from  Izabel  de  Mar." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then 
the  general's  brow  unbent  and  he  said  with 
cheerfulness : 

"This  explanation  is  entirely  reasonable. 
It  would  not  do  for  Paola  to  get  himself  de- 
posed, or  even  suspected,  at  this  juncture. 
A  new  Minister  of  Police  would  redouble 
our  danger." 

"How  did  you  obtain  this  copy  of  the 
report?"  asked  de  Pintra. 

"From  one  of  our  spies." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  said  I,  "that  Paola 
was  instrumental  in  sending  it  to  you.  It 
is  a  warning,  gentlemen.  We  must  not 
delay  in  acting  upon  it,  and  removing  our 
treasure  and  our  records  to  a  safer  place." 

"And  where  is  that?"  asked  Fonseca. 

I  looked  at  the  chief.  He  sat  thought- 
fully considering  the  matter. 

"There  is  no  need  of  immediate  haste," 
said  he  presently,  and  nothing  can  be  done 
to-night,  in  any  event.  To-morrow  we  will 
pack  everything  in  chests  and  carry  them  to 

[98] 


General  Fonseca 

Senhor  B astro,  who  has  a  safe  hiding-place. 
Meantime,  General,  you  may  leave  me  your 
men  to  serve  as  escort.  How  many  are 
there?" 

"Three.  They  are  now  guarding  the 
usual  approaches  to  this  house." 

"  Let  them  ride  with  you  to  the  station  at 
Cruz,  and  send  them  back  to  me  in  the 
morning.  I  will  also  summon  some  of  our 
nearby  patriots.  By  noon  to-morrow  every- 
thing will  be  ready  for  the  transfer." 

"Very  good!"  ejaculated  the  general. 
"We  cannot  abandon  too  soon  the  vault  we 
constructed  with  so  much  care.  Where  is 
your  daughter?" 

"In  her  apartments." 

"Before  you  leave  to-morrow,  lock  her 
up  and  put  a  guard  at  her  door.  We  must 
not  let  her  suspect  the  removal  of  the 
records. 

"It  shall  be  done,"  answered  de  Pintra, 
with  a  sigh.  "It  may  be,"  he  continued, 
hesitatingly,  "that  my  confidence  in  Izabel 
has  been  misplaced." 

The  general  did  not  reply.  He  folded 
his  cloak  about  him,  glanced  at  the  clock, 

[99] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

and  strode  from  the  room  without  a  word  of 
farewell. 

When  he  had  gone  Dom  Miguel  turned 
to  me. 

"Well?  "said  he. 

"I  do  not  like  Fonseca,"  I  answered. 

"As  a  man  he  is  at  times  rather  disagree- 
able," admitted  the  chief.  "But  as  a  gen- 
eral he  possesses  rare  ability,  and  his  high 
station  renders  him  the  most  valuable  leader 
the  Cause  can  boast.  Moreover,  Fonseca 
has  risked  everything  in  our  enterprise,  and 
may  be  implicitly  trusted.  When  at  last 
we  strike  our  great  blow  for  freedom,  much 
will  depend  upon  Manuel  da  Fonseca. 
And  now,  Robert,  let  us  retire,  for  an  hour 
before  daybreak  we  must  be  at  work." 

It  was  then  eleven  o'clock.  I  bade  the 
chief  good  night  and  retired  to  my  little 
room  next  the  study.  Dom  Miguel  slept 
in  a  similar  apartment  opening  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  study. 

The  exciting  interview  with  Fonseca  had 
left  me  nervous  and  wakeful,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  I  sank  into  a  restless 
slumber. 

[100] 


General  Fonseca 

A  hand  upon  my  shoulder  aroused  me. 

It  was  Dom  Miguel. 

"Come  quick,  for  God's  sake!"  he  cried, 
in  trembling  tones.  "She  has  stolen  my 
ring!" 


[101] 


CHAPTER  VIII 


A  TERRIBLE  CRIME 

Scarcely  awake,  I  sprang  from  my  couch 
in  time  to  see  de  Pintra's  form  disappear 
through  the  doorway.  A  moment  later  I 
was  in  the  study,  which  was  beginning  to 
lighten  with  the  dawn  of  a  new  day. 

The  trap  in  the  floor  was  open,  and  the 
chief  threw  himself  into  the  aperture  and 
quickly  descended.  At  once  I  followed, 
feeling  my  way  down  the  iron  staircase  and 
along  the  passage.  Reaching  the  domed 
chamber  a  strange  sight  met  our  view. 
Both  traps  had  been  raised,  the  second  one 
standing  upright  upon  its  hinged  edge,  and 
from  the  interior  of  the  vault  shone  a  dim 
light. 

While  we  hesitated  the  light  grew  strong- 
er, and  soon  Madam  Izabel  came  slowly 
from  the  vault  with  a  small  lamp  in  one  hand 
and  a  great  bundle  of  papers  in  the  other. 
As  she  reached  the  chamber  Dom  Miguel 

[102] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

sprang  from  out  the  shadow  and  wrenched 
the  papers  from  her  grasp. 

"So,  madam!"  he  cried,  "you  have  be- 
trayed yourself  in  seeking  to  betray  us. 
Shame!  Shame  that  a  daughter  of  mine 
should  be  guilty  of  so  vile  an  act!"  As  he 
spoke  he  struck  her  so  sharply  across  the 
face  with  the  bundle  of  papers  that  she 
reeled  backward  and  almost  dropped  the 
lamp. 

"Look  to  her,  Robert,"  he  said,  and 
leaped  into  the  vault  to  restore  the  papers 
to  their  place. 

Then,  while  I  stood  stupidly  by,  not 
thinking  of  any  further  danger,  Madam 
Izabel  sprang  to  the  trap  and  with  one  quick 
movement  dashed  down  the  heavy  plate  of 
steel.  I  saw  her  place  the  ring  in  its  cavity 
and  heard  the  shooting  of  the  bolts;  and 
then,  suddenly  regaining  my  senses,  I  rushed 
forward  and  seized  her  arm. 

"The  ring!"  I  gasped,  in  horror;  "give 
me  the  ring !  He  will  suffocate  in  that  dun- 
geon in  a  few  minutes." 

I  can  see  yet  her  cold,  serpent-like  eyes 
as  they  glared  venomously  into  my  own. 

[103] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

The  next  instant  she  dashed  the  lamp  into 
my  face.  It  shivered  against  the  wall,  and 
as  I  staggered  backward  the  burning  oil 
streamed  down  my  pajamas  and  turned  me 
into  a  living  pillar  of  fire. 

Screaming  with  pain,  I  tore  the  burning 
cloth  from  my  body  and  stamped  it  into 
ashes  with  my  bare  feet.  Then,  smarting 
from  the  sting  of  many  burns,  I  looked  about 
me  and  found  myself  in  darkness  and  alone. 

Instantly  the  danger  that  menaced 
Dom  Miguel  flashed  upon  me  anew,  and  I 
stumbled  up  the  iron  stairs  until  I  reached 
the  study,  where  I  set  the  alarm  bell  going  so 
fiercely  that  its  deep  tones  resounded 
throughout  the  whole  house. 

In  my  chamber  I  hastily  pulled  my 
clothing  over  my  smarting  flesh,  and  as  the 
astonished  servants  came  pouring  into  the 
study,  I  shouted  to  them: 

"Find  Senhora  de  Mar  immediately  and 
bring  her  to  me — by  force  if  necessary.  She 
has  murdered  Dom  Miguel!" 

Over  the  heads  of  the  stupidly  staring 
group  I  saw  a  white,  startled  face,  and 
Lesba's  great  eyes  met  my  own  with  a  quick 

[104] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

look  of  comprehension.  Then  she  disap- 
peared, and  I  turned  again  to  the  wondering 
servants. 

"Make  haste!"  I  cried.  "Can  you  not 
understand?  Every  moment  is  precious." 

But  the  frightened  creatures  gazed  upon 
each  other  silently,  and  I  thrust  them  aside 
and  ran  through  the  house  in  frantic  search 
for  the  murderess.  The  rooms  were  all 
vacant,  and  when  I  reached  the  entrance 
hall  a  groom  stopped  me. 

"Senhora  de  Mar  left  the  house  five 
minutes  ago,  sir.  She  was  mounted  upon 
our  swiftest  horse,  and  knows  every  inch  of 
the  country.  It  would  be  useless  to  pursue 
her." 

While  I  glared  at  the  fellow  a  soft  hand 
touched  my  elbow. 

"Come!"  said  Lesba.  "Your  horse  is 
waiting — I  have  saddled  him  myself.  Make 
for  the  station  at  Cruz,  for  Izabel  will  seek 
to  board  the  train  for  Rio." 

She  had  led  me  through  the  door  across 
the  broad  piazza;  and  as,  half-dazed,  I 
mounted  the  horse,  she  added,  "Tell  me, 
can  I  do  anything  in  your  absence?" 

[105] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Nothing!"  I  cried,  with  a  sob;  "Dom 
Miguel  is  locked  up  in  the  vault,  and  I  must 
find  the  key — the  key!" 

Away  dashed  the  horse,  and  over  my 
shoulder  I  saw  her  still  standing  on  the  steps 
of  the  piazza  staring  after  me. 

The  station  at  Cruz !  I  must  reach  it  as 
soon  as  possible — before  Izabel  de  Mar 
should  escape.  Almost  crazed  at  the  thought 
of  my  impotency  and  shuddering  at  the 
knowledge  that  de  Pintra  was  slowly  dying 
in  his  tomb  while  I  was  powerless  to  assist 
him,  I  lashed  the  good  steed  until  it  fairly 
flew  over  the  uneven  road. 

"Halt!"  cried  a  stern  voice. 

The  way  had  led  me  beneath  some  over- 
hanging trees,  and  as  I  pulled  the  horse 
back  upon  his  haunches  I  caught  the  gleam 
of  a  revolver  held  by  a  mounted  man  whose 
form  was  enveloped  in  a  long  cloak. 

Then  came  a  peal  of  light  laughter. 

"Why,  'tis  our  Americano!"  said  the 
horseman,  gayly;  "whither  away,  my  gal- 
lant cavalier  ?" 

To  my  delight  I  recognized  Paola's 
voice. 

[106] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

"Dom  Miguel  is  imprisoned  in  the 
vault!"  I  almost  screamed  in  my  agitation; 
"and  Madam  Izabel  has  stolen  the  key." 

"Indeed!"  he  answered.  "And  where 
is  Senhora  Izabel  ?" 

"She  has  fled  to  Rio." 

"And  left  her  dear  father  to  die  ?  How 
unfilial ! "  he  retorted,  laughing  again.  "  Do 
you  know,  Senhor  Harcliffe,  it  somehow 
reminds  me  of  a  story  my  nurse  used  to 
read  me  from  the  *  Arabian  Nights,'  how 
a  fond  daughter  planned  to  - 

"For  God's  sake,  sir,  the  man  is  dying!" 
I  cried,  maddened  at  his  indifference. 

He  drew  out  a  leathern  case  and  calmly 
selected  a  cigarette. 

"And  Madam  Izabel  has  the  key,"  he 
repeated,  striking  a  match.  "By  the  way, 
senhor,  where  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"To  overtake  the  murderess  before  she 
can  board  the  train  at  Cruz." 

' *  Very  good .  How  long  has  Dom  Miguel 
been  imprisoned  in  the  vault?" 

"Twenty  minutes,  a  half -hour,  perhaps." 

"  Ah !  He  may  live  in  that  foul  and  con- 
fined atmosphere  for  two  hours;  possibly 
[107] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

three.  But  no  longer.  I  know,  for  1 
planned  the  vault  myself.  And  the  station 
at  Cruz  is  a  good  two  hours'  ride  from 
this  spot.  I  know,  for  I  have  just  traveled 
it." 

I  dropped  my  head,  overwhelmed  by 
despair  as  the  truth  was  thus  brutally 
thrust  upon  me.  For  Dom  Miguel  there 
was  no  hope. 

"But  the  records,  sir!  We  must  save 
them,  even  if  our  chief  is  lost.  Should 
Madam  Izabel  deliver  the  key  to  her  hus- 
band or  to  the  Emperor  every  leader  of  the 
Cause  may  perish  upon  the  gallows." 

"Well  thought  of,  on  my  word,"  com- 
mented the  strange  man,  again  laughing 
softly.  "I  wonder  how  it  feels  to  have  a 
rope  around  one's  neck  and  to  kick  the 
empty  air  ?"  He  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  from 
his  mouth  and  watched  it  float  away.  "But 
you  are  quite  right,  Senhor  Harcliffe.  The 
lady  must  be  found  and  made  to  give  up  the 
ring." 

He  uttered  a  low  whistle,  and  two  men 
rode  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  trees  and 
joined  us. 

[108] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

"Ride  with  Senhor  Harcliffe  to  the 
station  at  Cruz.  Take  there  the  train  for 
Rio.  Present  the  American  to  Mazano- 
vitch,  who  is  to  obey  his  instructions." 

The  men  bowed  silently. 

"But  you,  senhor,"  I  said,  eagerly, 
"can  you  not  yourself  assist  us  in  this 
search  ?" 

"I  never  work,"  was  the  reply,  drawled 
in  his  mincing  manner.  "But  the  men  I 
have  given  you  will  do  all  that  can  be  done 
to  assist  you.  For  myself,  I  think  I  shall 
ride  on  to  de  Pintra's  and  kiss  my  sister 
good  morning.  Perhaps  she  will  give  me 
a  bite  of  breakfast,  who  knows?" 

Such  heartlessness  amazed  me.  Indeed, 
the  man  was  past  my  comprehension. 

"And  General  Fonseca?"  said  I,  hesi- 
tating whether  or  no  to  put  myself  under 
Paola's  command,  now  that  the  chief  was 
gone. 

"  Let  Fonseca  go  to  the  devil.  He  would 
cry  'I  told  you  so!'  and  refuse  to  aid  you, 
even  though  his  own  neck  is  in  jeopardy." 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  "If  you  delay 
longer  you  will  miss  the  train  at  Cruz. 
[109] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Good  morning,  senhor.  How  sad  that  you 
cannot  breakfast  with  us!" 

Touching  his  hat  with  a  gesture  of  mock 
courtesy  he  rode  slowly  on,  and  the  next 
moment,  all  irresolution  vanishing,  I  put 
spurs  to  my  horse  and  bounded  away,  the 
two  men  following  at  my  heels. 

Presently  I  became  tortured  with 
thoughts  of  Dom  Miguel,  stifling  in  his 
tomb  of  steel.  And  under  my  breath  I 
cursed  the  heartless  sang  froid  of  Francisco 
Paola,  who  refused  to  be  serious  even  when 
his  friend  was  dying. 

"The  cold-blooded  scoundrel!"  I  mut- 
tered, as  I  galloped  on;  "the  cad!  the 
trifling  coxcomb!  Can  nothing  rouse  him 
from  his  self -complaisant  idiocy?" 

"I  imagine  you  are  apostrophizing  my 
master,  senhor,"  said  one  of  the  men  riding 
beside  me. 

Something  in  his  voice  caused  me  to 
turn  and  scrutinize  his  face. 

"Ah!"  I  exclaimed,  "you  are  Sergeant 
Marco." 

"The  same,  senhor.  And  I  shall  not 
arrest  you  for  the  death  of  our  dear  lieu- 
[110] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

tenant."  A  low  chuckling  laugh  accom- 
panied the  grim  pleasantry.  "But  if  you 
were  applying  those  sweet  names  to  Senhor 
Paola,  I  assure  you  that  you  wrong  him. 
For  three  years  I  have  been  his  servant,  and 
this  I  have  learned:  in  an  emergency  no 
man  can  think  more  clearly  or  act  more 
swiftly  than  his  Majesty's  Minister  of 
Police." 

"I  have  been  with  him  four  years," 
announced  the  other  man,  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
"and  I  agree  with  you  that  he  is  cold  and 
heartless.  Yet  I  never  question  the  wisdom 
of  his  acts." 

"  Why  did  he  not  come  with  us  himself?" 
I  demanded,  angrily.  "Why  should  he 
linger  to  eat  a  breakfast  and  kiss  his  sister 
good  morning,  when  his  friend  and  chief 
is  dying,  and  his  Cause  is  in  imminent  dan- 
ger?" 

Marco  laughed,  and  the  other  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  disdaining  a  reply. 

For  a  time  we  rode  on  in  unbroken 
silence,  but  coming  to  a  rough  bit  of  road 
that  obliged  us  to  walk  the  horses,  the 
sergeant  said : 

[111] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  well  for  you  to 
explain  to  us  what  has  happened.  My 
friend  Figgot,  here,  is  a  bit  of  a  detective, 
and  if  we  are  to  assist  you  we  must  know  in 
what  way  our  services  are  required." 

"We  are  both  patriots,  senhor,"  said 
the  other,  briefly. 

So  I  told  them  the  story  of  Madam 
Izabel's  treachery  and  her  theft  of  the  ring, 
after  locking  her  father  within  the  vault. 
At  their  request  I  explained  minutely  the 
construction  of  the  steel  doors  and  described 
the  cutting  of  the  emerald  that  alone  could 
release  the  powerful  bolts.  They  heard  all 
without  comment,  and  how  much  of  my 
story  was  new  to  them  I  had  no  knowledge. 
But  of  one  thing  I  felt  certain :  these  fellows 
were  loyal  to  the  Cause  and  clever  enough 
to  be  chosen  by  Paola  as  his  especial  com- 
panions; therefore  they  were  just  the  assist- 
ants I  needed  in  this  emergency. 

It  was  a  weary  ride,  and  the  roads 
became  worse  as  we  progressed  toward 
Cruz.  The  sun  had  risen  and  now  spread 
a  marvelous  radiance  over  the  tropical 
landscape.  I  noted  the  beauty  of  the 
[112] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

morning  even  while  smarting  from  the  burns 
upon  my  breast  and  arms,  and  heart-sick 
at  the  awful  fate  of  my  beloved  leader  - 
even  now  perishing  amid  the  records  of  the 
great  conspiracy  he  had  guided  so  success- 
fully. Was  all  over  yet,  I  wondered? 
Paola  had  said  that  he  might  live  in  his 
prison  for  two  or  three  hours.  And  the 
limit  of  time  had  nearly  passed.  Poor  Dom 
Miguel ! 

My  horse  stepped  into  a  hole,  stumbled, 
and  threw  me  headlong  to  the  ground. 

For  a  few  minutes  I  was  unconscious; 
then  I  found  myself  sitting  up  and  sup- 
ported by  Sergeant  Marco,  while  the  other 
man  dashed  water  in  my  face. 

"It  is  a  dangerous  delay,"  grumbled 
Marco,  seeing  me  recovering. 

Slowly  I  rose  to  my  feet.  No  bones  were 
broken,  but  I  was  sadly  bruised. 

"I  can  ride,  now,"  I  said. 

They  lifted  me  upon  one  of  their  horses 
and  together  mounted  the  other.  My  own 
steed  had  broken  his  leg.  A  bullet  ended 
his  suffering. 

Another  half-hour  and  we  sighted  the 
[113] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

little  station  at  Cruz.  Perhaps  I  should 
have  explained  before  that  from  Cuyaba 
to  Cruz  the  railway  made  a  long  sweep 
around  the  base  of  the  hills.  The  station 
nearest  to  de  Pintra's  estate  was  Cuyaba; 
but  by  riding  straight  to  Cruz  one  saved 
nearly  an  hour's  railway  journey,  and  the 
train  for  Rio  could  often  be  made  in  this 
way  when  it  was  impossible  to  reach 
Cuyaba  in  time  to  intercept  it.  And  as 
the  station  at  Cruz  was  more  isolated  than 
that  at  Cuyaba,  this  route  was  greatly 
preferred  by  the  revolutionists  visiting  de 
Pintra. 

My  object  in  riding  to  Cruz  upon  this 
occasion  was  twofold.  Had  Madam  Izabel 
in  her  flight  made  for  Cuyaba  to  catch  the 
train,  I  should  be  able  to  board  the  same 
train  at  Cruz,  and  force  her  to  give  up  the 
ring.  And  if  she  rode  to  Cruz  she  must 
await  there  the  coming  of  the  train  we  also 
hoped  to  meet.  In  either  event  I  planned, 
as  soon  as  the  ring  was  in  my  possession,  to 
hasten  back  to  the  mansion,  open  the  vault 
and  remove  the  body  of  our  chief;  after 
which  it  would  be  my  duty  to  convey  the 
[114] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

records  and  treasure  to  the  safe-keeping  of 
Senhor  Bastro. 

I  had  no  expectation  of  finding  Dom 
Miguel  still  alive.  With  everything  in  our 
favor  the  trip  would  require  five  hours, 
and  long  before  that  time  the  prisoner's 
fate  would  have  overtaken  him.  But  the 
chief's  dying  wish  would  be  to  save  the 
records,  and  that  I  intended  to  do  if  it  were 
possible. 

However,  the  delays  caused  by  meeting 
with  Paola  and  my  subsequent  unlucky 
fall  had  been  fatal  to  my  plans.  We 
dashed  up  to  the  Cruz  station  in  time  to  see 
the  train  for  Rio  disappearing  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  to  complete  my  disappointment 
we  found  standing  beside  the  platform 
a  horse  yet  panting  and  covered  with 
foam. 

Quickly  dismounting,  I  approached  the 
horse  to  examine  it.  The  station  master 
came  from  his  little  house  and  bowed  with 
native  politeness. 

"The  horse?  Ah,  yes;  it  was  from  the 
stables  of  Dom  Miguel.  Senhora  de  Mar 
had  arrived  upon  the  animal  just  in  time 
[115] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

to  take  the  express  for  Rio.  The  gentle- 
man also  wanted  the  train?  How  sad  to 
have  missed  it !  But  there  would  be  another 
at  eleven  o'clock,  although  not  so  fast  a 
train." 

For  a  time  I  stood  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  my 
mind  refusing  to  grasp  the  full  horror  of 
the  situation.  Until  then,  perhaps,  a  lin- 
gering hope  of  saving  Dom  Miguel  had 
possessed  me.  But  with  the  ring  on  its 
way  to  Rio  and  the  Emperor,  and  I  con- 
demned to  inaction  at  a  deserted  way- 
station,  it  is  no  wonder  that  despair  over- 
whelmed me. 

When  I  slowly  recovered  my  faculties 
I  found  that  my  men  and  the  station  master 
had  disappeared.  I  found  them  in  the 
little  house  writing  telegrams,  which  the 
official  was  busily  ticking  over  the  wires. 

Glancing  at  one  or  two  of  the  messages 
I  found  them  unintelligible. 

"It  is  the  secret  cypher,"  whispered 
Figgot.  "We  shall  put  Madam  Izabel  in 
the  care  of  Mazanovitch  himself.  Ah,  how 
he  will  cling  to  the  dear  lady!  She  is 
clever  —  ah,  yes !  exceedingly  clever  is 
[116] 


A  Terrible  Crime 

Senhora  de  Mar.  But  has  Mazanovitch 
his  match  in  all  Brazil?" 

"I  do  not  know  the  gentleman,"  I 
returned. 

"No?  Perhaps  not.  But  you  know  the 
Minister  of  Police,  and  Mazanovitch  is  the 
soul  of  Francisco  Paola." 

"But  what  are  we  to  do?"  I  asked, 
impatiently. 

"Why,  now  that  our  friends  in  Rio  are 
informed  of  the  situation,  we  have  trans- 
ferred to  them,  for  a  time,  all  our  worries. 
It  only  remains  for  us  to  await  the  eleven 
o'clock  train." 

I  nodded,  staring  at  him  through  a  sort 
of  haze.  I  was  dimly  conscious  that  my 
burns  were  paining  me  terribly  and  that 
my  right  side  seemed  pierced  by  a  thousand 
red-hot  needles.  Then  the  daylight  faded 
away,  the  room  grew  black,  and  I  sank  upon 
the  floor  unconscious. 


[117] 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  MISSING  FINGER 

When  I  recovered  I  was  lying  upon  a 
cot  in  the  station-master's  private  room. 
Sergeant  Marco  had  ridden  to  a  neighboring 
farmhouse  and  procured  bandages  and 
some  olive  oil  and  Figgot,  who  proudly 
informed  me  he  had  once  been  a  surgeon, 
had  neatly  dressed  and  bandaged  my  burns. 

These  now  bothered  me  less  than  the 
lameness  resulting  from  my  fall;  but  I 
drank  a  glass  of  wine  and  then  lay  quietly 
upon  the  cot  until  the  arrival  of  the  train, 
when  my  companions  aroused  me  and 
assisted  me  aboard. 

I  made  the  journey  comfortably  enough, 
and  felt  greatly  refreshed  after  partaking 
of  a  substantial  luncheon  brought  from  an 
eating-house  by  the  thoughtful  Figgot. 

On  our  arrival  at  Rio  we  were  met  by  a 
little,  thin-faced  man  who  thrust  us  all  three 
into  a  cab  and  himself  joined  us  as  we 
[118] 


The  Missing  Finger 

began  to  rattle  along  the  labyrinth  of  streets. 
He  was  plainly  dressed  in  black,  quiet  and 
unobtrusive  in  manner,  and  had  iron-gray 
hair  and  beard,  both  closely  cropped.  I 
saw  at  once  he  was  not  a  Brazilian,  and 
made  up  my  mind  he  was  the  man  called 
Mazanovitch  by  Paola  and  my  companions. 
If  so,  he  was  the  person  now  in  charge  of 
our  quest  for  the  ring,  and  with  this  idea  I 
examined  his  face  with  interest. 

This  was  not  difficult,  for  the  man  sat 
opposite  me  with  lowered  eye-lids  and  a 
look  of  perfect  repose  upon  his  thin  features. 
He  might  have  been  fifty  or  sixty  years  of 
age;  but  there  was  no  guide  in  determining 
this  except  his  gray  hairs,  for  his  face  bore 
no  lines  of  any  sort,  and  his  complexion, 
although  of  pallid  hue,  was  not  unhealthy 
in  appearance. 

It  surprised  me  that  neither  he  nor  my 
companions  asked  any  questions.  Perhaps 
the  telegrams  had  explained  all  that  was 
necessary.  Anyway,  an  absolute  silence 
reigned  in  the  carriage  during  our  brief 
drive. 

When  we  came  to  a  stop  the  little  man 
[119] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

opened  the  door.  We  all  alighted  and 
followed  him  into  a  gloomy  stone  building. 
Through  several  passages  we  walked,  and 
then  our  conductor  led  us  into  a  small 
chamber,  bare  except  for  a  half-dozen  iron 
cots  that  stood  in  a  row  against  the  wall. 
A  guard  was  at  the  doorway,  but  admitted 
us  with  a  low  bow  after  one  glance  at  the 
man  in  black. 

Leading  us  to  the  nearest  cot,  Mazano- 
vitch  threw  back  a  sheet  and  then  stood 
aside  while  we  crowded  around  it.  To  my 
horror  I  saw  the  form  of  Madam  Izabel  ly- 
ing dead  before  us.  Her  white  dress  was 
discolored  at  the  breast  with  clots  of  dark 
blood. 

"Stabbed  to  the  heart,"  said  the  guard, 
calmly.  "It  was  thus  they  brought  her 
from  the  train  that  arrived  this  afternoon 
from  Matto  Grosso.  The  assassin  is  un- 
known." 

Mazanovitch  thrust  me  aside,  leaned 
over  the  cot,  and  drew  the  woman's  left 
hand  from  beneath  the  sheet. 

The  little  finger  had  been  completely 
severed. 

[120] 


The  Missing  Finger 

Very  gently  he  replaced  the  hand,  drew 
the  sheet  over  the  beautiful  face,  and 
turned  away. 

Filled  with  amazement  at  the  Nemesis 
that  had  so  soon  overtaken  this  fierce  and 
terrible  woman,  I  was  about  to  follow  our 
guide  when  I  found  myself  confronting  a 
personage  who  stood  barring  my  way  with 
folded  arms  and  a  smile  of  grim  satisfaction 
upon  his  delicate  features. 

It  was  Valcour  —  the  man  who  had 
called  himself  de  Guarde  on  board  the 
Castina  —  the  Emperor's  spy. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Senhor  Harcliffe!  Do  we 
indeed  meet  again?"  he  cried,  tauntingly. 
"And  are  you  still  keeping  a  faithful  record 
in  that  sweet  diary  of  yours?  It  is  fine 
reading,  that  diary  —  perhaps  you  have  it 
with  you  now?" 

"Let  me  pass,"  said  I,  impatiently. 

"Not  yet,  my  dear  friend,"  he  answered, 
laughing.  "You  are  going  to  be  my  guest, 
you  know.  Will  it  not  please  you  to  enjoy 
my  society  once  more?  To  be  sure.  And 
I  —  I  shall  not  wish  to  part  with  you  again 
soon." 

[121] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"What  do  you  mean?"    I  demanded. 

"Only  that  I  arrest  you,  Robert  Har- 
cliffe,  in  the  name  of  the  Emperor!" 

"On  what  charge?"  I  asked. 

"Murder,  for  one,"  returned  the  smiling 
Valcour.  "Afterward  you  may  answer  for 
conspiracy." 

"Pardon  me,  Senhor  Valcour,"  said  the 
little  man,  in  a  soft  voice.  "The  gentle- 
man is  already  under  arrest  —  in  the  Em- 
peror's name." 

Valcour  turned  upon  him  fiercely,  but 
his  eyes  fell  as  he  encountered  the  other's 
passive,  unemotional  countenance. 

"Is  it  so,  Captain  Mazanovitch?  Then 
I  will  take  the  prisoner  off  your  hands." 

The  little  man  spread  out  his  palms 
with  an  apologetic,  deprecating  gesture. 
His  eyes  seemed  closed  —  or  nearly  so.  He 
seemed  to  see  nothing;  he  looked  at  neither 
Valcour  nor  myself.  But  there  was  some- 
thing about  the  still,  white  face,  with  its 
frame  of  iron-gray,  that  compelled  a  cer- 
tain respect,  and  even  deference. 

"It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted,"  he  said, 
gently;  "and  it  grieves  me  to  be  obliged  to 
[122] 


The  Missing  Finger 

disappoint  you,  Senhor  Valcour.  But  since 
this  man  is  a  prisoner  of  the  police  —  a 
state  prisoner  of  some  importance,  I  believe 
—  it  is  impossible  to  deliver  him  into  your 
hands." 

Without  answer  Valcour  stood  motion- 
less before  us,  only  his  mobile  face  and 
his  white  lips  showing  the  conflict  of 
emotions  that  oppressed  him.  And  then  I 
saw  a  curious  thing  happen.  The  eyelids  of 
Mazanovitch  for  an  instant  unclosed,  and 
in  that  instant  so  tender  a  glance  escaped 
them  that  Valcour  trembled  slightly,  and 
touched  with  a  gentle,  loving  gesture  the 
elder  man's  arm. 

It  all  happened  in  a  flash,  and  the  next 
moment  I  could  not  have  sworn  that  my 
eyes  had  not  deceived  me,  for  Valcour 
turned  away  with  a  sullen  frown  upon  his 
brow,  and  the  Captain  seized  my  arm  and 
marched  me  to  the  door,  Figgot  and  Marco 
following  close  behind. 

Presently  we  regained  our  carriage  and 
were  driven  rapidly  from  the  morgue. 

This  drive  was  longer  than  the  first,  but 
during  it  no  word  was  spoken  by  any  of  my 
[123] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

companions.  I  could  not  help  staring  at 
the  closed  eyes  of  Mazanovitch,  but  the 
others,  I  noticed,  avoided  looking  at  him. 
Did  he  see,  I  wondered  ?  —  could  he  see 
from  out  the  tiny  slit  that  showed  beneath 
his  lashes? 

We  came  at  last  to  a  quiet  street  lined 
with  small  frame  houses,  and  before  one 
of  these  the  carriage  stopped.  Mazano- 
vitch opened  the  front  door  with  a  latch- 
key, and  ushered  us  into  a  dimly  lighted 
room  that  seemed  fitted  up  as  study  and 
office  combined. 

Not  until  we  were  seated  and  supplied 
with  cigars  did  the  little  man  speak.  Then 
he  reclined  in  a  cushioned  chair,  puffed  at 
his  cheroot,  and  turned  his  face  in  my 
direction. 

"Tell  me  all  you  know  concerning  the 
vault  and  the  ring  which  unlocks  it,"  he 
said,  in  his  soft  tones. 

I  obeyed.  Afterward  Figgot  told  of  my 
meeting  with  the  Minister  of  Police,  and 
of  Paola's  orders  to  him  and  Marco  to 
escort  me  to  Rio  and  to  place  the  entire 
matter  in  the  hands  of  Mazanovitch. 
[124] 


The  Missing  Finger 

The  little  man  listened  without  comment 
and  afterward  sat  for  many  minutes  silently 
smoking  his  cheroot. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  I,  at  last,  "that 
the  death  of  Senhora  de  Mar,  and  especially 
the  fact  that  her  ring  finger  has  been  severed 
from  her  hand,  points  conclusively  to  one 
reassuring  fact;  that  the  ring  has  been 
recovered  by  one  of  our  band,  and  so  the 
Cause  is  no  longer  endangered.  Therefore 
my  mission  to  Rio  is  ended,  and  all  that 
remains  for  me  is  to  return  to  Cuyaba  and 
attend  to  the  obsequies  of  my  poor  friend 
de  Pintra." 

Marco  and  Figgot  heard  me  respectfully, 
but  instead  of  replying  both  gazed  question- 
ingly  at  the  calm  face  of  Mazanovitch. 

"The  facts  are  these;"  said  the  latter, 
deliberately;  "Senhora  de  Mar  fled  with 
the  ring;  she  has  been  murdered,  and  the 
ring  taken  from  her.  By  whom?  If  a 
patriot  has  it  we  shall  know  the  truth  within 
fifteen  minutes."  I  glanced  at  a  great 
clock  ticking  against  the  wall.  "Before 
your  arrival,"  he  resumed,  "I  had  taken 
steps  to  communicate  with  every  patriot  in 
[125] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Rio.  Yet  there  were  few  able  to  recognize 
the  ring  as  the  key  to  the  secret  vault,  and 
the  murder  was  committed  fifteen  minutes 
after  the  train  left  Cruz." 

I  started,  at  that. 

"Who  could  have  known?"  I  asked. 

The  little  man  took  the  cigar  from  his 
mouth  for  a  moment. 

"  On  the  train,"  said  he,  "  were  General 
Fonseca,  the  patriot,  and  Senhor  Valcour, 
the  Emperor's  spy." 


[126] 


CHAPTER  X 


"FOR  TO-MORROW  WE  DIE!" 

I  remembered  Fonseca's  visit  of  the  night 
before,  and  considered  it  natural  he  should 
take  the  morning  train  to  the  capital. 

"But  Valcour  would  not  need  to  murder 
Madam  Izabel,"  said  I.  "They  were 
doubtless  in  the  plot  together,  and  she  would 
have  no  hesitation  in  giving  him  the  ring 
had  he  demanded  it.  On  the  contrary, 
our  general  was  already  incensed  against 
the  daughter  of  the  chief,  and  suspected  her 
of  plotting  mischief.  I  am  satisfied  he  has 
the  ring." 

"The  general  will  be  with  us  presently," 
answered  Mazanovitch,  quietly.  "But, 
gentlemen,  you  all  stand  in  need  of  refresh- 
ment, and  Senhor  Harcliffe  should  have 
his  burns  properly  dressed.  Kindly  follow 
me." 

He  led  the  way  up  a  narrow  flight  of 
stairs  that  made  two  abrupt  turns  —  for  no 
[127] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

apparent  reason  —  before  they  reached  the 
upper  landing.  Following  our  guide  we 
came  to  a  back  room  where  a  table  was  set 
for  six.  A  tall,  studious-looking  Brazilian 
greeted  us  with  a  bow  and  immediately 
turned  his  spectacled  eyes  upon  me.  On 
a  small  side  table  were  bandages,  ointments, 
and  a  case  of  instruments  lying  open. 

Within  ten  minutes  the  surgeon  had 
dressed  all  my  wounds  —  none  of  which, 
however,  was  serious,  merely  uncomfort- 
able —  and  I  felt  greatly  benefited  by  the 
application  of  the  soothing  ointments. 

Scarcely  was  the  operation  completed 
when  the  door  opened  to  admit  Fonseca. 
He  gave  me  a  nod,  glanced  questioningly 
at  the  others,  and  then  approached  the 
table  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine,  which 
he  drank  eagerly.  I  noticed  he  was  in  full 
uniform. 

"General,"  said  I,  unable  to  repress  my 
anxiety,  "have  you  the  ring?" 

He  shook  his  head  and  sat  down  with  a 
gloomy  expression  upon  his  face. 

"I  slept  during  the  journey  from  Cuy- 
aba,"  he  said  presently,  "and  only  on  my 
[128] 


"For  To-morrow  We  Die! " 

arrival  at  Rio  did  I  discover  that  Senhora 
de  Mar  had  traveled  by  the  same  train. 
She  was  dead  when  they  carried  her  into 
the  station." 

"And  Valcour?"  It  was  Mazanovitch 
who  asked  the  question. 

"Valcour  was  beside  the  body,  wild 
with  excitement,  and  swearing  vengeance 
against  the  murderer." 

"Be  seated,  gentlemen,"  requested  our 
host,  approaching  the  table.  "We  have 
time  for  a  slight  repast  before  our  friends 
arrive." 

"May  I  join  you?"  asked  a  high,  queru- 
lous voice.  A  slender  figure,  draped  in 
black  and  slightly  stooping,  stood  in  the 
doorway. 

"Come  in,"  said  Fonseca,  and  the  new 
arrival  threw  aside  his  cloak  and  sat  with 
us  at  the  table. 

"The  last  supper,  eh?"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  that  quavered  somewhat.  "For  to- 
morrow we  die.  Eh,  brothers?  —  to-mor- 
row we  die!" 

"Croaker!"  cried  Fonseca,  with  scorn. 
"Die  to-morrow,  if  you  like;  die  to-night, 
[129] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

for  all  I  care.  The  rest  of  us  intend  to  live 
long  enough  to  shout  huzzas  for  the  United 
States  of  Brazil!" 

"In  truth,  Senhor  Piexoto,"  said  Marco, 
who  was  busily  eating,  "we  are  in  no  un- 
usual danger  to-night." 

Startled  by  the  mention  of  the  man's 
name,  I  regarded  him  with  sudden  interest. 

The  reputation  of  Floriano  Piexoto,  the 
astute  statesman  who  had  plotted  so  well 
for  the  revolutionary  party,  was  not  un- 
known to  me,  by  any  means.  Next  to 
Fonseca  no  patriot  was  more  revered  by 
the  people  of  Brazil ;  yet  not  even  the  general 
was  regarded  with  the  same  unquestioning 
affection.  For  Piexoto  was  undoubtedly 
a  friend  of  the  people,  and  despite  his  per- 
sonal peculiarities  had  the  full  confidence 
of  that  rank  and  file  of  the  revolutionary 
party  upon  which,  more  than  upon  the 
grandees  who  led  it,  depended  the  fate  of 
the  rising  republic. 

His  smooth-shaven  face,  sunken  cheeks, 

and  somewhat  deprecating  gaze  gave  him 

the  expression  of  a  student  rather  than  a 

statesman,  and  his  entire  personality  was  in 

[130] 


;<  For  To-morrow  We  Die! ' 

sharp  contrast  to  the  bravado  of  Fonseca. 
To  see  the  two  leaders  together  one  would 
never  suspect  that  history  would  prove  the 
statesman  greater  than  the  general. 

"Danger!"  piped  Piexoto,  shrilly,  in 
answer  to  Sergeant  Marco's  remark,  "you 
say  there  is  no  danger?  Is  not  de  Pintra 
dead?  Is  not  the  ring  gone?  Is  not  the 
secret  vault  at  the  Emperor's  mercy?" 

"Who  knows?"  answered  Fonseca,  with 
a  shrug. 

"And  who  is  this?"  continued  Piexoto, 
turning  upon  me  a  penetrating  gaze.  "Ah, 
the  American  secretary,  I  suppose.  Well, 
sir,  what  excuse  have  you  to  make  for 
allowing  all  this  to  happen  under  your  very 
nose?  Are  you  also  a  traitor?" 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  your  acquaint- 
ance, senhor,"  said  I,  stiffly;  "nor,  in  view 
of  your  childish  conduct,  do  I  greatly 
desire  it." 

Fonseca  laughed,  and  the  Pole  turned  his 
impassive  face,  with  its  half-closed  eye-lids, 
in  my  direction.  But  Piexoto  seemed 
rather  pleased  with  my  retort,  and  said: 

"Never  mind;  your  head  sits  as  in- 
[131] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

securely  upon  its  neck  as  any  present.  'Tis 
really  a  time  for  action  rather  than  recrimi- 
nation. What  do  you  propose,  Mazano- 
vitch?" 

"I  am  waiting  to  hear  if  you  have  dis- 
covered the  present  possessor  of  the  ring," 
answered  the  captain. 

"No;  our  people  were  ignorant  of  its 
very  existence,  save  in  a  few  cases,  and  none 
of  them  has  seen  it.  Therefore  the  Em- 
peror has  it,  without  doubt." 

"Why  without  doubt?"  asked  Mazano- 
vitch. 

"Who  else  could  desire  it?  Who  else 
could  know  its  value?  Who  else  would 
have  murdered  Madam  Izabel  to  secure  it?" 

"Why  the  devil  should  the  Emperor 
cause  his  own  spy  to  be  murdered?"  in- 
quired Fonseca,  in  his  harsh  voice.  'You 
are  a  fool,  Piexoto." 

"What  of  Leon  de  Mar?"  asked  the 
other,  calmly.  "He  hated  his  wife.  Why 
should  he  not  have  killed  her  himself,  in 
order  to  be  rid  of  her  and  at  the  same  time 
secure  the  honor  of  presenting  his  Emperor 
with  the  key  to  the  secret  vault?" 
[132] 


"For  To-morrow  We  Die! " 

"Leon  de  Mar,"  said  Mazanovitch,  "is 
in  Rio  Grande  do  Sul.  He  has  been 
stationed  there  for  three  weeks." 

For  a  time  there  was  silence. 

"  Where  is  Paola?"  suddenly  asked  Pie- 
xoto.  "  I  want  to  know  what  Paola  is  doing 
in  this  crisis." 

"He  was  last  seen  near  de  Pintra's 
residence,"  said  Figgot.  "But  we  know 
nothing  of  his  present  whereabouts." 

'You  may  be  sure  of  one  thing,"  declared 
Marco  stoutly;  "that  Francisco  Paola  is 
serving  the  Cause,  wherever  he  may  be." 

The  general  snorted  derisively,  and 
Piexoto  looked  at  him  with  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  smile  his  anxious  face  had 
shown. 

"How  we  admire  one  another!"  he 
murmured. 

"Personally  I  detest  both  you  and 
Paola,"  responded  the  general,  frankly. 
"But  the  Cause  is  above  personalities,  and 
as  for  your  loyalty,  I  dare  not  doubt  it.  But 
we  wander  from  the  subject  in  hand.  Has 
the  Emperor  the  ring  or  is  he  seeking  it  as 
eagerly  as  we  are?" 

[133] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"The  Emperor  has  not  the  ring,"  said 
Mazanovitch,  slowly;  "you  may  be  as- 
sured of  that.  Otherwise  — " 

Piexoto  gave  a  start. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  he,  "otherwise  we 
would  not  be  sitting  here." 


[134] 


CHAPTER  XI 

LESBA'S  BRIGHT  EYES 

Later  that  evening  there  was  a  large 
gathering  of  the  important  members  of  the 
conspiracy,  but  the  result  of  their  deliber- 
ations only  served  to  mystify  us  more  than 
before  as  to  the  murderer  of  Madam  Izabel 
and  the  possessor  of  the  ring.  Many  were 
the  expressions  of  sorrow  at  the  terrible 
fate  of  Dom  Miguel  —  a  man  beloved  by 
all  who  had  known  him.  The  sad  in- 
cident of  his  death  caused  several  to  waver 
in  their  loyalty  to  the  projected  Republic, 
and  I  was  impressed  by  the  fact  that  at  this 
juncture  the  Cause  seemed  to  be  in  rather 
desperate  straits. 

"If  the  ring  is  gone  and  the  records  dis- 
covered," said  one,  "we  would  best  leave 
the  country  for  a  time,  until  the  excitement 
subsides,  for  the  Emperor  will  spare  no 
one  in  his  desire  for  vengeance." 

"Let  us  first  wait  for  more  definite 
[135] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

information,"  counseled  the  old  general, 
always  optimistic.  "Should  an  uprising 
be  precipitated  at  this  time  we  have  all  the 
advantage  on  our  side,  for  the  Republic  is 
to-day  stronger  than  the  Empire.  And 
we  have  yet  to  hear  from  Paola." 

So,  after  much  comment,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  watch  every  action  of  the  court 
party  with  redoubled  vigilance,  and  in  case 
danger  threatened  the  republicans,  to  give 
the  signal  that  would  set  the  revolution 
going  in  full  swing.  Meantime  we  would 
endeavor  to  get  in  touch  with  Paola. 

But  the  Minister  of  Police  had  mysteri- 
ously disappeared,  and  although  telegrams 
were  sent  in  every  direction,  we  could  hear 
nothing  of  Paola's  whereabouts.  Inquiries 
at  the  court  failed  to  elicit  any  information 
whatever,  and  they  were  doubtless  as 
ignorant  on  the  subject  as  ourselves. 

Officially,  I  was  supposed  to  be  occupy- 
ing a  dungeon  in  the  fortress,  and  Mazano- 
vitch  had  actually  locked  up  a  man  under 
my  name,  registering  the  prisoner  in  the 
prescribed  fashion.  Therefore,  being 
cleverly  disguised  by  the  detective,  I  ran 
[136] 


Lesba's  Bright  Eyes 

little  risk  of  interference  should  I  venture 
abroad  in  the  city. 

Curiously  enough,  Mazanovitch  chose 
to  disguise  me  as  a  member  of  the  police, 
saying  that  this  plan  was  less  likely  than 
any  other  to  lead  to  discovery.  Wherever  I 
might  wander  I  was  supposed  to  be  off 
duty  or  on  special  service,  and  the  captain 
enrolled  me  under  the  name  of  Andrea 
Subig. 

I  was  anxious  at  times  to  return  to 
Cuyaba,  for  Lesba's  white  face,  as  I  had 
last  seen  it  on  the  morning  of  Dom  Miguel's 
incarceration,  haunted  me  perpetually.  But 
the  quest  of  the  ring  was  of  vital  importance, 
and  I  felt  that  I  dared  not  return  until  I 
could  remove  my  dear  friend's  body  from 
the  vault  and  see  it  properly  interred. 

Under  Mazanovitch's  directions  I  strove 
earnestly  to  obtain  a  clue  that  might  lead 
to  a  knowledge  of  where  the  missing  ring 
was  secreted;  but  our  efforts  met  with  no 
encouragement,  and  we  were  not  even  sure 
that  the  murderer  of  Izabel  de  Mar  had 
ever  reached  the  capital. 

On  the  third  morning  after  my  arrival 
£137] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

I  was  strolling  down  the  street  toward  the 
railway  station,  in  company  with  Mazano- 
vitch,  when  suddenly  I  paused  and  grasped 
my  comrade's  arm  convulsively. 

"Look  there!"  I  exclaimed. 

Mazanovitch  shook  off  my  hand,  im- 
patiently. 

"  I  see,"  he  returned ;  "  it  is  the  Senhorita 
Lesba  Paola,  riding  in  the  Emperor's 
carriage." 

"But  that  scoundrel  Valcour  is  with 
her!"  I  cried. 

"Scoundrel?  We  do  not  call  Senhor 
Valcour  that.  He  is  faithful  to  the  Em- 
peror, who  employs  him.  Shall  we,  who  are 
unfaithful,  blame  him  for  his  fidelity?" 

While  I  sought  an  answer  to  this  dis- 
concerting query  the  carriage  whirled  past 
us  and  disappeared  around  a  corner;  but 
I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Lesba's  bright 
eyes  glancing  coyly  into  the  earnest  face 
Valcour  bent  over  her,  and  the  sight  filled 
me  with  pain  and  suspicion. 

"Listen,  Captain,"  said  I,  gloomily, 
"that  girl  knows  all  the  important  secrets 
of  the  conspiracy." 

[138] 


Lesba's  Bright  Eyes 

"True,"  answered  the  unmoved  Mazano- 
vitch. 

"And  she  is  riding  in  the  Emperor's 
carriage,  in  confidential  intercourse  with 
the  Emperor's  spy." 

"True,"  he  said  again. 

"Paola  has  disappeared,  and  his  sister 
is  at  court.  What  do  you  make  of  it, 
senhor?" 

"Pardon  me,  the  Minister  of  Police 
returned  to  his  duties  this  morning,"  said 
the  man,  calmly.  "Doubtless  his  sister 
accompanied  him.  Who  knows?" 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this?"  I  de- 
manded, angrily. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  Paola  to  communicate 
with  us,  which  he  will  do  in  good  time. 
Meanwhile,  let  me  counsel  patience,  Senhor 
Americano." 

But  I  left  him  and  strode  down  the  street, 
very  impatient  indeed,  and  filled  with 
strange  misgivings.  These  Brazilians  were 
hard  to  understand,  and  were  it  not  for 
Lesba  I  could  wish  myself  quit  of  their 
country  forever. 

Lesba  ?  What  strange  chance  had 
[139] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

brought  her  to  Rio  and  thrown  her  into  the 
companionship  of  the  man  most  inimical 
to  her  brother,  to  myself,  and  to  the  Cause? 

Was  she  playing  a  double  game?  Could 
this  frank,  clear-eyed  girl  be  a  traitor  to  the 
Republic,  as  had  been  Izabel  de  Mar? 

It  might  be.  A  woman's  mind  is  hard 
to  comprehend.  But  she  had  been  so 
earnest  a  patriot,  so  sincerely  interested 
in  our  every  success,  so  despondent  over 
our  disappointments,  that  even  now  I 
could  not  really  doubt  her  faith. 

Moreover,  I  loved  the  girl.  Had  I  never 
before  realized  the  fact,  I  knew  it  in  this 
hour  when  she  seemed  lost  to  me  forever. 
For  never  had  speech  of  mine  brought 
the  glad  look  to  her  face  that  I  had  noted  as 
she  flashed  by  with  Valcour  pouring  soft 
speeches  into  her  ears.  The  Emperor's 
spy  was  a  handsome  fellow;  he  was  high 
in  favor  at  court;  he  was  one  of  her  own 
people  - 

Was    he,    by    the    by?     Was    Valcour 

really  a  Brazilian?     He  had  a  Brazilian's 

dark  eyes  and  complexion,  it  is  true;    yet 

now  that  I  thought  upon  it,  there  was  an 

[140] 


Lesba's  Bright  Eyes 

odd,  foreign  cast  to  his  features  that  indi- 
cated he  belonged  to  another  race.  Yes, 
there  was  a  similarity  between  them  and 
the  features  of  the  Pole  Mazanovitch. 
Perhaps  Valcour  might  also  be  a  Pole. 
Just  now  Mazanovitch  had  spoken  kindly 
of  him,  and  - 

I  stopped  short  in  my  calculations,  for  I 
had  made  a  second  startling  discovery. 
My  wanderings  had  led  me  to  the  railway 
station,  where,  as  I  approached,  I  saw  the 
Emperor  of  Brazil,  Dom  Pedro  de  Alcan- 
tara, surrounded  by  a  company  of  his 
Uruguayan  guard,  and  in  the  act  of  board- 
ing a  private  car  attached  to  the  Matto 
Grosso  train. 

I  had  never  before  seen  the  Emperor, 
but  from  descriptions  of  him,  as  well  as 
from  the  deference  of  those  about  him,  I 
had  no  doubt  of  his  identity. 

His  hurried  departure  upon  a  journey, 
coupled  with  Paola's  presence  at  the  capital, 
could  only  bear  one  interpretation.  The 
Minister  of  Police  had  been  in  conference 
with  the  Emperor,  and  his  Majesty  was 
about  to  visit  in  person  the  scene  of  the  late 
[141] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

tragedy,  and  do  what  he  might  to  unearth 
the  records  of  that  far-reaching  revolution 
which  threatened  his  throne. 

Here  was  news,  indeed !  Half -dazed, 
I  started  to  retrace  my  steps,  when  a  soft 
voice  beside  me  said: 

"Have  you  money,  senhor?" 

''Yes,"  I  answered. 

"Then,"  continued  Mazanovitch,  "you 
must  take  this  train  for  Cuyaba.  Let  the 
Emperor  guide  you.  If  danger  threatens 
us,  telegraph  me  the  one  word,  'Lesba'! 
Do  you  understand,  Senhor  Harcliffe?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  I,  "but  let  me  use 
some  other  word.  Why  drag  a  woman's 
name  into  this  affair?" 

He  coughed  slightly. 

"It  is  a  word  you  will  remember,"  said 
he.  "Good  by  to  you,  senhor." 

He  had  an  odd  way  of  disappearing, 
this  strange  Pole,  whose  eyes  I  had  never 
seen.  With  his  last  word  he  actually 
melted  into  the  crowd  of  loiterers  who  were 
watching  the  Emperor's  departure,  and  I 
could  not  have  found  him  again  had  I  so 
desired. 

[142] 


Lesba's  Bright  Eyes 

My  first  thought  was  to  rebel  at  leaving 
Rio,  where  Lesba  Paola  had  taken  refuge 
from  the  coming  storm.  But  the  girl  seemed 
amply  amused  without  me,  and  my  duties 
to  the  interests  of  my  dead  chieftain  for- 
bade my  deserting  the  Cause  at  this  crisis. 
Therefore  I  would  follow  the  Emperor. 

As  the  train  moved  slowly  out  of  the 
station,  I  swung  myself  upon  the  steps  of 
the  rear  car,  and  the  next  instant  was  tum- 
bled upon  the  platform  by  a  person  who 
sprang  up  behind  me. 

Angrily  protesting,  I  scrambled  to  my 
feet;  but  the  fellow,  with  scarcely  a  glance 
in  my  direction,  passed  into  the  car  and 
made  his  way  forward. 

The  exclamations  died  suddenly  upon 
my  lips. 

The  belated  passenger  was  Senhor  Val- 
cour,  the  spy. 


[143] 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  SHRUBBERY 

The  name  of  an  Emperor  is  a  fine  thing 
to  conjure  with.  When  we  arrived  at  the 
station  at  Cuyaba  at  early  evening  a  score 
of  saddle-horses  and  several  carriages  were 
awaiting  the  royal  party. 

I  stood  in  the  shadows  of  the  station 
and  watched  the  guardsmen  mount  and 
surround  the  equipage  in  which  their 
imperial  master  seated  himself.  His  civic 
companions  —  men  of  high  rank,  evidently 
-  occupied  the  other  carriages ;  and  then 
the  entire  cavalcade  swept  away  into  the 
gloom  and  left  me  alone. 

The  station  agent  was  known  to  me  as  a 
patriot,  but  he  was  still  bobbing  his  head 
after  the  royal  party  when  I  accosted  him. 

"  Get  me  a  horse,  Pedro." 

"  A  horse !     Ah,  your  excellency  is  joking. 
Every  horse  that  could  be  found  has  been 
impressed  by  the  Emperor.'* 
[144] 


The  Man  in  the  Shrubbery 

"Anything  will  do.  A  nag  of  any  sort, 
with  saddle  or  cart,  will  answer  my  purpose. 
The  Cause  demands  it,  Pedro.'* 

"I  am  powerless,  your  excellency.  Ab- 
solutely powerless!" 

It  was  true  enough.  The  only  way  for 
me  to  get  to  de  Pintra's  mansion  was  on 
foot,  and  after  inducing  the  man  to  give  me 
a  peasant's  dress  in  exchange  for  my  police 
uniform,  I  set  out  at  once. 

It  was  a  long  and  gloomy  walk.  There 
was  a  moon,  but  large  banks  of  clouds  were 
drifting  across  the  sky,  and  the  way  was 
obscured  more  than  half  the  time,  causing 
me  to  go  slowly  in  order  to  avoid  stumbling 
into  the  ditches. 

I  met  no  one  on  the  road,  for  the  high- 
ways were  usually  deserted  at  this  hour, 
and  the  silence  all  about  me  added  its 
depressing  influence  to  the  anxiety  of  my 
thoughts. 

The  Emperor's  advent  into  this  strong- 
hold of  the  Revolution  indicated  that  at 
last  he  had  determined  to  act  and  suppress 
the  conspiracy  that  had  grown  to  such  huge 
proportions.  With  the  real  leader — "the 
[145] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

brains  of  the  revolt,"  as  de  Pintra  was 
called  —  out  of  the  way,  Dom  Pedro  doubt- 
less had  concluded  he  could  easily  crush  the 
remainder  of  the  conspirators. 

But  his  success,  I  argued,  would  depend 
upon  his  securing  the  key  to  the  secret 
vault,  for  without  that  the  records  would 
never  come  into  his  possession. 

Did  he  have  the  key?  Was  this  the 
explanation  of  his  sudden  activity?  The 
thought  made  me  hasten  my  steps,  but 
although  I  put  forth  my  best  efforts  it  was 
close  upon  midnight  before  I  sighted  the 
great  hedge  that  surrounded  de  Pintra's 
mansion.  I  half -expected  to  find  the  gate- 
way guarded,  but  to  my  relief  the  avenue 
was  as  deserted  as  the  highway  had  been. 

Cautiously  I  passed  along  the  drive 
leading  to  the  mansion.  I  am  not  usually 
nervous  at  such  times,  but  something  in  the 
absolute  stillness  of  the  scene,  something 
menacing  in  the  deep  shadows  cast  by  the 
great  trees,  unnerved  me  and  made  me 
suspicious  of  my  surrounding. 

Once,  indeed,  I  fancied  that  I  heard  a 
stealthy  footstep  advancing  to  meet  me, 
[146] 


The  Man  in  the  Shrubbery 

and  with  a  bound  I  sprang  from  the  drive- 
way and  crouched  among  the  thick  shrub- 
bery, listening  intently.  But  after  a  few 
moments  I  became  reassured  and  resumed 
my  journey,  avoiding  this  time  the  graveled 
drive  and  picking  my  way  noiselessly  across 
the  grass,  skirting  the  endless  array  of 
flower-beds  and  shrubbery. 

Fortunately  the  moon  came  out,  or  I 
might  have  lost  my  way;  and  before  long 
the  black  line  of  shadow  cast  by  the  man- 
sion itself  fell  at  my  feet.  Peering  ahead, 
I  saw  that  I  had  approached  the  right  wing 
of  the  house.  It  was  here  that  my  own 
room  was  located,  and  with  a  low  excla- 
mation of  relief  I  was  about  to  step  for- 
ward into  the  path  when  my  eyes  fell  upon 
a  sight  that  caused  me  to  suddenly  halt  and 
recoil  in  horror. 

It  was  a  man's  arm  showing  white  in  the 
moonlight,  and  extending  from  beneath  a 
clump  of  low  bushes. 

For  a  few  moments  I  gazed  at  it  as  if 
fascinated,  but  quickly  recovering  myself 
I  advanced  to  the  bushes  and  gently  with- 
drew the  body  until  it  lay  exposed  to  the 
[147] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

full  rays  of  the  moon.  I  fully  expected  to 
recognize  one  of  our  conspirators,  but  when 
I  turned  the  man  over  a  face  was  disclosed 
that  was  wholly  unknown  to  me  —  that 
of  a  dark,  swarthy  person  of  evident  intelli- 
gence and  refinement. 

He  had  been  shot  squarely  between  the 
eyes,  and  doubtless  had  met  death  instantly. 
I  was  about  to  consider  the  man  a  govern- 
ment spy  who  had  been  killed  by  Paola  or 
some  other  of  the  conspirators,  when  I 
discovered,  with  a  start  of  dismay,  that  the 
man's  left  hand  had  been  completely  severed 
at  the  wrist.  Also  the  hand  was  missing, 
and  although  I  searched  the  ground  care- 
fully in  the  neighborhood,  I  could  find  no 
trace  of  it. 

This  discovery  gave  me  ample  food  for 
thought.  The  only  plausible  reason  for  the 
hasty  amputation  of  the  hand  had  doubtless 
been  to  secure  a  ring  which  the  dead  man 
had  worn  —  the  secret  key  to  Dom  Miguel's 
vault  probably,  since  the  murder  had  been 
committed  at  this  place. 

In  whose  possession,  then,  was  the  ring 
now?  Madam  Izabel,  the  Emperor's  spy, 
[148] 


The  Man  in  the  Shrubbery 

had  first  stolen  it.  Then  another  had 
murdered  her  for  its  possession  —  not  a 
conspirator,  for  all  had  denied  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  ring.  Could  it  have  been  the 
man  who  now  lay  dead  before  me?  And, 
if  so,  who  was  he?  And  had  the  gov- 
ernment again  managed  to  secure  the 
precious  jewel  and  to  revenge  Madam 
Izabel's  assassination  by  mutilating  this 
victim  in  the  same  way  that  she  had  been 
served? 

But  if  the  dead  man  was  not  one  of  the 
few  leaders  of  the  conspiracy  who  knew  the 
secret  of  the  ring,  how  should  he  have 
learned  its  value,  and  risked  his  life  to 
obtain  it  from  Madam  Izabel? 

That,  however,  was  of  no  vital  im- 
portance. The  main  thing  was  that  the 
ring  had  been  taken  from  him,  and  had 
once  more  changed  ownership. 

Perhaps  Paola,  lurking  near  his  uncle's 
mansion,  had  encountered  this  person  and 
killed  him  to  get  the  ring.  If  so,  had  he 
carried  it  to  the  Emperor?  And  was  this 
the  explanation  of  Dom  Pedro's  sudden 
visit  to  de  Pintra's  residence  ? 
[149] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Yet  what  object  could  Paola  have  in 
betraying  the  conspiracy  at  this  juncture? 

Filled  with  these  thoughts  I  was  about 
to  proceed  to  the  house,  when  a  sudden 
thought  induced  me  to  stoop  and  feel  of  the 
murdered  man's  arm.  The  -flesh  was  still 
warm! 

The  murder  had  been  done  that  very 
evening  —  perhaps  within  the  hour. 

I  own  that  the  horror  of  the  thing  and 
the  reckless  disregard  of  life  evinced  in  this 
double  murder  for  the  possession  of  the 
ring,  warned  me  against  proceeding  further 
in  the  matter;  and  for  the  moment  I  had 
serious  thoughts  of  returning  quietly  to 
Rio  and  taking  the  first  steamer  for  New 
Orleans.  But  there  were  reasons  for  re- 
maining. One  was  to  get  possession  in 
some  way  of  Dom  Miguel's  body  and  see 
it  decently  buried;  for  he  was  my  uncle's 
friend,  as  well  as  my  own,  and  I  could  not 
honorably  return  home  and  admit  that  I  had 
left  him  lying  within  the  dungeon  where 
his  doom  had  overtaken  him.  The  second 
reason  I  could  not  have  definitely  explained. 
Perhaps  it  was  curiosity  to  see  the  adven- 
[150] 


The  Man  in  the  Shrubbery 

ture  to  the  end,  or  a  secret  hope  that  the 
revolution  was  too  powerful  to  be  balked. 
And  then  there  was  Lesba !  At  any  rate,  I 
resolved  not  to  desert  the  Cause  just  yet, 
although  acknowledging  it  to  be  the  wisest 
and  safest  course  to  pursue. 

So,  summoning  all  my  resolution  and 
courage  to  my  aid,  I  crept  to  the  window 
of  my  room  and,  by  a  method  that  I  had 
many  times  before  made  use  of,  admitted 
myself  to  the  apartment. 

I  had  seen  no  lights  whatever  shining 
from  the  windows,  and  the  house  —  as  I 
stood  still  and  listened  —  seemed  abso- 
lutely deserted.  I  felt  my  way  to  a  shelf, 
found  a  candle,  and  lighted  it. 

Then  I  turned  around  and  faced  the 
barrel  of  a  revolver  that  was  held  on  a 
level  with  my  eyes. 

"You  are  our  prisoner,  senhor!"  said  a 
voice,  stern  but  suppressed.  "I  beg  you 
to  offer  no  resistance." 


[151] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DOM  PEDRO  DE  ALCANTARA 

I  held  the  candle  steadily  and  stared  at 
my  captor.  He  was  dressed  in  the  uniform 
of  an  officer  of  the  royal  guards — the  body 
commanded  by  Fonseca.  At  his  back  were 
two  others,  silent  but  alert. 

;'You  are  here  in  the  service  of  General 
da  Fonseca?"  I  asked,  with  assumed  com- 
posure. 

"In  the  Emperor's  service,  senhor," 
answered  the  officer,  quietly. 

"But  the  general—" 

"  The  general  is  unaware  of  our  mission. 
I  have  my  orders  from  his  Majesty  in  per- 
son." 

He  smiled  somewhat  unpleasantly  as  he 
made  this  statement,  and  for  the  first  time 
I  realized  that  my  arrest  might  prove  a 
great  misfortune. 

"Pardon  me  if  I  appear  discourteous," 
he  continued,  and  made  a  sign  to  his  men. 
[152J 


Dom  Pedro  De  Alcantara 

One  took  the  candle  from  my  hand  and 
the  other  snapped  a  pair  of  hand-cuffs  over 
my  wrists. 

I  had  no  spirit  to  resist.  The  surprise 
had  been  so  complete  that  it  well-nigh 
benumbed  my  faculties.  I  heard  the  offi- 
cer's voice  imploring  me  in  polite  tones  to 
follow,  and  then  my  captors  extinguished 
the  candle  and  marched  me  away  through  a 
succession  of  black  passages  until  we  had 
reached  an  upper  room  at  the  back  of  the 
house. 

Here  a  door  quickly  opened  and  I  was 
thrust  into  a  blaze  of  light  so  brilliant  that 
it  nearly  blinded  me. 

Blinking  my  eyes  to  accustom  them  to 
the  glare,  I  presently  began  to  note  my  sur- 
roundings, and  found  myself  standing  be- 
fore a  table  at  which  was  seated  the  Em- 
peror of  Brazil. 

Involuntarily  I  bowed  before  his  Ma- 
jesty. He  was  a  large  man,  of  commanding 
appearance,  with  dark  eyes  that  seemed  to 
read  one  through  and  through.  Behind 
him  stood  a  group  of  four  men  in  civilian 
attire,  while  the  other  end  of  the  room  was 
[153] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

occupied  by  a  squad  of  a  dozen  soldiers  of 
the  Uruguayan  guard. 

"A  prisoner,  your  Majesty,"  said  the 
officer,  saluting.  "One  evidently  familiar 
with  the  house,  for  he  obtained  entrance  to  a 
room  adjoining  Dom  Miguel's  library." 

The  Emperor  turned  from  the  papers 
that  littered  the  table  and  eyed  me  gravely. 

;*Your  name!"  said  he,  in  a  stern  voice. 

I  hesitated;  but  remembering  that  offi- 
cially I  was  occupying  a  dungeon  in  Rio  I 
decided  to  continue  the  deception  of  my 
present  disguise. 

"Andrea  Subig,  your  Majesty." 

Some  one  laughed  softly  beside  me.  I 
turned  and  saw  Valcour  at  my  elbow. 

"It  is  the  American  secretary,  your  Ma- 
jesty, one  Robert  Harcliffe  by  name." 

The  spy  spoke  in  his  womanish,  dainty 
manner,  and  with  such  evident  satisfaction 
that  I  could  have  strangled  him  with  much 
pleasure  had  I  been  free. 

"Why  are  you  here?"  inquired  the  Em- 
peror, after  eyeing  me  curiously  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  I  have  some  personal  belongings  in  this 
[154] 


Dom  Pedro  De  Alcantara 

house  which  I  wished  to  secure  before  re- 
turning to  the  United  States.  Your  men 
arrested  me  in  the  room  I  have  been  occu- 
pying-" 

"Why  are  you  anxious  to  return  to  the 

United  States?"  questioned  the  Emperor. 

"  Because  my  mission  to  Brazil  is  ended." 

"It  is  true,"  returned  Dom  Pedro,  posi- 
tively. "The  conspiracy  is  at  an  end." 

"  Of  that  I  am  not  informed,"  I  replied 
evasively.  "But  I  have  been  employed  by 
Dom  Miguel  de  Pintra,  not  by  the  conspir- 
acy, as  your  Majesty  terms  it.  And  Dom 
Miguel  has  no  further  need  of  me." 

"Dom  Miguel  is  dead,"  retorted  the 
Emperor,  with  an  accent  of  triumph  in  his 
voice. 

'Murdered  by  his  daughter,  your  spy," 
I  added,  seeing  that  he  was  aware  of  the 
truth. 

He  merely  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders 
and  turned  to  whisper  to  a  gray-bearded 
man  behind  him. 

"This  conspiracy  must  be  summarily 
dealt  with,"  resumed  the  Emperor,  turning 
to  me  again,  "and  as  there  is  ample  evidence 
[155] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

that  you  are  guilty  of  treason,  Senhor  Har- 
cliffe,  I  shall  order  you  put  to  death  unless 
you  at  once  agree  to  give  us  such  informa- 
tion, as  may  be  in  your  possession." 

"I  am  an  American  citizen  and  entitled 
to  a  fair  trial,"  I  answered,  boldly  enough. 
;<You  dare  not  assassinate  me.  For  if  I 
am  injured  in  any  way  the  United  States  will 
call  you  to  full  account." 

"It  is  a  matter  of  treason,  sir!"  returned 
the  Emperor,  harshly.  :<Your  citizenship 
will  not  protect  you  in  this  case.  I  have 
myself  visited  your  country  and  been 
received  there  with  great  courtesy.  And 
no  one  knows  better  than  I  that  your  coun- 
trymen would  repudiate  one  who  came  to 
Brazil  for  the  treasonable  purpose  of  de- 
throning its  legitimate  Emperor." 

That  was  true  enough,  and  I  remained 
silent. 

"Will  you  give  us  the  required  informa- 
tion?" he  demanded. 

I  was  curious  to  know  how  much  the 

royalists  had  learned,  and  in  what  position 

the  republicans  had  been  placed  by  this 

imperial  visit  to  their  headquarters.     Dom 

[156] 


Dom  Pedro  De  Alcantara 

Pedro  had  said  that  the  conspiracy  was  at 
an  end ;  but  I  did  not  believe  that. 

"  I  am  sure  you  err  in  believing  me  to  be 
in  the  secret  counsels  of  the  republicans," 
I  said,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "I  was 
merely  employed  in  the  capacity  of  private 
secretary  to  Dom  Miguel." 

"But  you  know  of  the  underground 
vault?  You  have  visited  it?" 

"Often,"  I  replied,  seeing  no  harm  in 
the  acknowledgment. 

"  Can  you  open  it  for  us?"  he  demanded. 

I  laughed,  for  the  question  exposed  to 
me  his  real  weakness. 

"Your  Majesty  must  be  well  aware  that 
there  is  but  one  key,"  I  replied,  "and 
without  that  secret  key  I  am  as  powerless 
as  you  are  to  open  the  vault." 

"Where  is  the  key?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  know.  Senhora  de  Mar  stole 
it  from  Dom  Miguel." 

"And  it  was  taken  from  her  by  one  of 
your  conspirators." 

"Have  you  traced  it  no  farther?"  I  in- 
quired, carelessly. 

He  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
[157] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  My  men  are  now  investigating  the  mat- 
ter," said  he.  "  Doubtless  the  ring  will  soon 
be  in  our  possession." 

"And  how  about  the  murdered  man  in 
the  shrubbery?"  I  asked. 

The  royalists  exchanged  glances,  and 
one  or  two  uttered  exclamations  of  sur- 
prise. 

"Is  there  a  murdered  man  in  the  shrub- 
bery, Captain  de  Souza?"  questioned  the 
Emperor,  sternly. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,  your  Majesty," 
returned  the  officer. 

"  I  found  him  as  I  approached  the  house," 
said  I.  "  He  has  been  shot  within  the  hour, 
and  his  left  hand  severed  at  the  wrist." 

It  was  evident  that  my  news  startled 
them.  When  I  had  described  the  location 
of  the  body  some  of  the  soldiers  were  sent 
to  fetch  it,  and  during  their  absence  the  Em- 
peror resumed  his  questioning.  I  told  him 
frankly  that  none  of  the  records  of  the  re- 
publicans was  in  my  possession,  and  that 
whatever  knowledge  I  had  gained  of  the 
conspiracy  or  the  conspirators  could  not  be 
drawn  from  me  by  his  threats  of  death.  For 
[158] 


Dom  Pedro  De  Alcantara 

now  I  began  to  understand  that  this  visit  to 
Dom  Miguel's  house  was  a  secret  one,  and 
that  the  royalists  were  as  much  in  the  dark 
as  ever  regarding  the  conspiracy  itself  or  the 
whereabouts  of  its  leaders.  One  thing  only 
they  knew — that  the  records  were  lying  with 
Dom  Miguel's  dead  body  in  the  secret  vault, 
and  that  the  ring  which  opened  it  was  miss- 
ing. 

Before  long  the  soldiers  bore  the  body 
of  the  latest  victim  of  the  fatal  ring  into  the 
presence  of  the  Emperor,  and  Valcour  bent 
over  it  eagerly  for  a  moment,  and  then  shook 
his  head. 

"The  man  is  a  stranger,"  he  said. 

Others  present  endeavored  to  identify 
the  murdered  man,  but  were  equally  un- 
successful. 

I  could  see  by  their  uneasy  looks  that 
they  were  all  suspicious  of  one  another;  for 
Captain  de  Souza  protested  that  no  shot 
could  have  been  fired  without  some  of  his 
men  hearing  it,  and  the  fact  that  the  ring 
they  sought  had  been  so  recently  within 
their  very  reach  led  them  to  believe  it  might 
not  now  be  very  far  away. 
£159] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

For  all  the  Emperor's  assumed  calmness, 
I  knew  he  was  greatly  disturbed  by  this  last 
murder,  as  well  as  by  the  impotency  of  his 
spies  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the 
ring.  When  Valcour  suggested,  in  his  soft 
voice,  that  I  had  myself  killed  the  fellow  in 
the  shrubbery,  and  had  either  secreted  the 
ring  or  had  it  now  in  my  possession,  they 
pounced  upon  me  eagerly,  and  I  was  sub- 
jected to  a  thorough  search  and  afterward 
to  severe  questioning  and  many  fierce 
threats. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Emperor  listened 
to  the  counsels  of  the  group  of  advisors  that 
stood  at  his  back,  and  then  ordered  me 
safely  confined  until  he  had  further  use 
for  me. 

The  officer  therefore  marched  me  away 
to  the  front  of  the  house,  where,  still  securely 
hand-cuffed,  I  was  thrust  into  a  small  cham- 
ber and  left  alone.  The  key  was  turned  in 
the  lock  and  I  heard  the  soft  foot-falls  of  a 
guard  pacing  up  and  down  outside  the 
door. 

The  long  walk  from  the  station  and  the 
excitement  of  the  last  hour  had  greatly 
[160] 


Dom  Pedro  De  Alcantara 

wearied  me ;  so  I  groped  around  in  the  dark 
until  I  found  the  bed  with  which  the  room 
was  provided,  and  soon  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  dreary  conspiracy  in  a  refreshing 
sleep. 


[161] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  RING 

Toward  morning  a  tramping  of  feet 
aroused  me;  the  door  was  thrust  open  long 
enough  for  another  prisoner  to  be  admitted, 
and  then  I  heard  the  bolts  shoot  into  their 
fastening  and  the  soldiers  march  away. 

It  was  not  quite  dark  in  the  room,  for  the 
shutters  were  open  and  admitted  a  ray  of 
moonlight  through  the  window.  So  I  lay 
still  and  strained  my  eyes  to  discover  who 
my  companion  might  be. 

He  stood  motionless  for  a  time  in  the  place 
the  soldiers  had  left  him.  I  made  out  that 
he  was  tall  and  stooping,  and  exceedingly 
thin ;  but  his  face  was  in  shadow.  Presently, 
as  he  moved,  I  heard  a  chain  clank,  and 
knew  he  was  hand-cuffed  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  myself. 

Slowly  he  turned  his  body,  peering  into 
every  corner  of  the  room,  so  that  soon  he 
discovered  me  lying  where  the  moonlight 
[162] 


The  Man  with  the  Ring 

was  strongest.  He  gave  a  start,  then,  but 
spoke  no  word;  and  again  an  interval  of 
absolute  silence  ensued. 

His  strange  behavior  began  to  render  me 
uneasy.  It  is  well  to  know  something  of  a 
person  confined  with  you  in  a  small  room  at 
the  dead  of  night,  and  I  was  about  to  address 
the  fellow  when  he  began  stealthily  ap- 
proaching the  bed.  He  might  have  been 
three  yards  distant  when  I  arose  to  a  sitting 
posture.  This  caused  him  to  pause,  his 
form  well  within  the  streak  of  light.  Resting 
upon  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  facing  him, 
my  own  features  were  clearly  disclosed,  and 
we  examined  each  other  curiously. 

I  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  I  had 
little  pleasure  in  meeting  him  then.  He 
appeared  to  be  a  man  at  least  fifty  years  of 
age,  with  pallid,  sunken  cheeks,  eyes  bright, 
but  shifting  in  their  gaze,  and  scanty  gray 
locks  that  now  hung  disordered  over  a  low 
forehead.  His  form  was  thin  and  angular, 
his  clothing  of  mean  quality,  and  his  hands, 
which  dangled  before  him  at  the  ends  of  the 
short  chain,  were  large  and  hardened  by 
toil. 

[163] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Not  a  Brazilian,  I  decided  at  once;  but 
I  could  not  then  determine  his  probable 
nationality. 

"Likewise  a  prisoner,  senor?"  he  in- 
quired, in  an  indistinct,  mumbling  tone, 
and  with  a  strong  accent. 

;<Yes,"  I  answered. 

"Ah,  conspirator.  I  see;  I  see!"  He 
nodded  his  head  several  times,  and  then 
growled  sentences  that  I  could  not  under- 
stand. 

While  I  stared  at  him  he  turned  away 
again,  and  with  a  soft  and  stealthy  tread 
made  the  entire  circuit  of  the  room,  feeling 
of  each  piece  of  furniture  it  contained,  and 
often  pausing  for  many  moments  in  one 
spot  as  if  occupied  in  deep  thought. 

At  last  he  approached  the  bed  again, 
dragging  after  him  a  chair  in  which  he  slowly 
seated  himself  opposite  me. 

"Retain  your  couch,  senor,"  he  mutter- 
ed. "I  shall  not  disturb  you,  and  it  will 
soon  be  morning.  You  may  sleep." 

But  I  was  now  fully  awake,  and  had  no 
intention  of  sleeping  while  this  strange  in- 
dividual occupied  his  seat  beside  me. 
[164] 


The  Man  with  the  Ring 

"Who  are  you?"  I  demanded.  "A  pa- 
triot?" 

"Not  as  you  use  the  term,"  he  answered, 
at  once.  "  I  am  Mexican." 

"Mexican!"  I  echoed,  surprised.  "Do 
you  speak  English?" 

"Truly,  senor,"  he  answered,  but  his 
English  was  as  bad  as  his  Portuguese. 

"Why  are  you  here  and  a  prisoner?" 
I  asked. 

"I  had  business  with  Senor  de  Pintra. 
I  came  from  afar  to  see  him,  but  found  the 
soldiers  inhabiting  his  house.  I  am  timid, 
senor,  and  suspecting  trouble  I  hid  in  an 
out-building,  where  the  soldiers  discovered 
me.  Why  I  should  be  arrested  I  do  not 
know.  I  am  not  conspirator;  I  am  not  even 
Brazilian.  I  do  not  care  for  your  politics 
whatever.  They  tell  me  Miguel  de  Pintra 
is  dead.  Is  it  true?" 

His  tone  did  not  seem  sincere.  But  I  re- 
plied it  was  true  that  Dom  Miguel  was  dead. 

"Then  I  should  be  allowed  to  depart. 
But  not  so.  They  tell  me  the  great  Em- 
peror is  here,  their  Dom  Pedro,  and  he  will 
speak  to  me  in  the  morning.  Is  it  true?" 
[165] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

This  time  I  detected  an  anxiety  in  his 
voice  that  told  me  he  had  not  suspected  the 
Emperor's  presence  until  his  arrest. 

But  I  answered  that  Dom  Pedro  was  then 
occupying  de  Pintra's  mansion,  together 
with  many  of  his  important  ministers. 

For  a  time  he  remained  silent,  probably 
considering  the  matter  with  care.  But  he 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  shifted  continually  in  his 
chair. 

;'You  are  Americano?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"  I  knew,  when  you  ask  me  for  my  Eng- 
lish. But  why  does  the  Emperor  arrest  an 
American  ?" 

I  smiled ;  but  there  was  no  object  in  try- 
ing to  deceive  him. 

"  I  was  private  secretary  to  Dom  Miguel," 
said  I,  "and  they  suspect  my  late  master 
to  have  plotted  against  the  Emperor." 

He  laughed,  unpleasantly. 

"  It  is  well  your  master  is  dead  when  they 
make  that  suspicion,"  said  he;  then  paused 
a  moment  and  asked,  abruptly,  "Did  he 
tell  you  of  the  vault?" 

I  stared  at  him.  A  Mexican,  not  a  con- 
[166] 


The  Man  with  the  Ring 

spirator,  yet  aware  of  the  secret  vault!  It 
occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  well  to  keep 
my  own  counsel,  for  a  time,  at  least. 

"A  vault?"  I  asked,  carelessly,  and  shook 
my  head. 

Again  the  fellow  laughed  disagreeably. 
But  my  answer  seemed  to  have  pleased  him. 

"He  was  sly!  Ah,  he  was  sly,  the  dear 
Senor  Miguel!"  he  chuckled,  rocking  his 
thin  form  back  and  forth  upon  the  chair. 
"But  never  mind.  It  is  nothing.  I  never 
pry  into  secrets,  senor.  It  is  not  my  nature." 

I  said  nothing  and  another  silent  fit 
seized  him.  Perhaps  five  minutes  had 
passed  before  he  arose  and  made  a  second 
stealthy  circuit  of  the  room,  this  time  ex- 
amining the  barred  window  with  great  care. 
Then  he  sighed  heavily  and  came  back  to 
his  seat. 

"What  will  be  your  fate,  senor?"  he 
asked. 

"I  shall  appeal  to  our  consul  at  Rio. 
They  must  release  me,"  I  answered. 

"Good.  Very  good!  They  must  re- 
lease you.  You  are  no  conspirator — a  mere 
secretary,  and  an  American." 

I  nodded,  wishing  I  might  share  his  con- 
[167] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

fidence.  Presently  he  asked  for  my  name 
and  residence,  and  I  answered  him  truly. 

"I  myself  am  Manuel  Pesta,  of  the  City 
of  Mexico.  You  must  not  forget  the  name, 
senor.  Manuel  Pesta,  the  clockmaker." 

"I  shall  not  forget,"  said  I,  wondering 
what  he  could  mean.  And  a  moment  later 
he  startled  me  by  bending  forward  and  ask- 
ing in  an  eager  tone : 

"Have  they  searched  you?" 

"Yes." 

"It  is  my  turn  soon.     This  morning." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  fell  silent  again. 

For  my  part  I  lay  back  upon  the  pillow, 
yet  taking  care  to  face  him,  and  so  we  re- 
mained until  daylight  came  and  gradually 
drove  the  shadows  from  the  little  room. 

Even  then  my  strange  companion  did  not 
move.  He  was  indeed  a  queer  mixture  of 
eager  activity  and  absolute  self-repression. 
Another  hour  passed,  and  then  we  heard 
footsteps  approaching  down  the  passageway. 

With  a  start  Pesta  aroused  himself  and 

fixed   a   searching   glance   upon   my   face. 

Trembling  with  nervousness  he  suddenly 

raised  his   manacled   hands   and   removed 

[168] 


The  Man  with  the  Ring 

from  his  mouth  a  small  object  that  glittered 
in  the  morning  light. 

My  heart  gave  a  sudden  bound.  It  was 
the  ring  that  opened  the  secret  vault! 

His  own  agitation  prevented  his  noting 
my  amazement.  Thrusting  the  ring  toward 
me  he  whispered,  hurriedly: 

"Conceal  it,  quickly,  for  the  love  of  God ! 
Keep  it  until  I  come  for  it — I,  Manuel  Pesta 
— until  I  demand  it  of  Robert  Harcliffe  of 
New  Orleans.  It  may  be  to-day — it  may 
be  many  days.  But  I  will  come,  senor,  I— 

The  bolts  of  the  door  shot  back  and  a 
squad  of  soldiers  entered.  Their  sudden 
appearance  barely  gave  me  time  to  drop  the 
ring  into  an  outside  pocket  of  my  coat.  As 
two  of  the  soldiers  seized  him  I  noticed  that 
the  Mexican  was  trembling  violently;  but 
he  arose  meekly  and  submitted  to  be  led 
from  the  room.  Two  others  motioned  me 
to  follow,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were 
ushered  into  the  room  where  I  had  had  my 
interview  with  the  Emperor. 

Valcour  was  standing  by  the  fireplace 
when  we  entered,  and  eyeing  the  Mexican 
with  indifference  he  said  to  the  captain: 
[169] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"This  is  the  man  you  found  secreted  in 
the  out-building?" 

"It  is,  senhor,"  answered  the   captain. 

"Have  you  searched  him?" 

"Only  partially.  We  took  from  him 
this  revolver,  a  knife,  and  this  purse.  There 
were  no  papers." 

Valcour  took  the  weapons  in  his  hands 
and  examined  them.  The  revolver,  I  could 
see  as  he  threw  back  the  barrel,  was  loaded 
in  all  six  chambers.  The  knife  he  glanced 
at  and  turned  to  place  upon  the  mantel  when 
a  second  thought  seemingly  induced  him  to 
open  the  blades.  It  was  a  large,  two-bladed 
affair,  and  the  bright  steel  showed  that  it 
was  sharpened  as  finely  as  a  razor.  As  I 
watched  the  Emperor's  spy  I  chanced  to 
look  toward  the  Mexican  and  surprised  an 
expression  that  nearly  resembled  terror  upon 
his  haggard  face.  Perhaps  Valcour  saw  it, 
too,  for  he  drew  a  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket  and  carefully  wiped  out  the  seats  in 
the  handles  where  the  blades  lay  when  the 
knife  was  closed.  A  small  stain  appeared 
upon  the  linen,  and  the  spy  carried  the  hand- 
kerchief to  the  window  and  inspected  the 
[170] 


The  Man  with  the  Ring 

stain  with  interest.  While  he  was  thus  en- 
gaged the  Emperor  entered  the  room,  fol- 
lowed by  his  ministers,  and  seating  himself 
at  the  table  calmly  proceeded  to  light  a 
cigar.  Evidently  he  had  just  breakfasted, 
for  he  had  an  appearance  of  content  that 
indicated  a  comfortable  condition. 

Valcour,  returning  from  the  window,  first 
saluted  the  Emperor  with  great  deference, 
and  then  addressed  the  Mexican. 

"Why  did  you  kill  that  man  last  evening 
and  sever  his  hand  with  your  knife?" 

The  Mexican  gazed  at  him  in  horror. 

"I — senor,  as  God  hears  me,  I— 

"Tell  me  why!"  said  Valcour  calmly. 

The  fellow  glared  at  him  as  if  fascinated. 
Then  he  threw  his  hands,  all  manacled  as 
they  were,  high  above  his  head,  and  with  a 
scream  that  caused  even  the  Emperor  to 
start,  fell  upon  the  floor  in  a  swoon. 

Valcour  turned  him  over  with  his  foot. 

"Search  him!"  he  commanded. 

The  men  were  thorough.  Not  a  shred  of 
clothing  escaped  their  eyes.  And  after  they 
had  finished  the  detective  himself  made  an 
examination. 

[171] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Dom  Pedro  was  evidently  much  inter- 
ested. Without  any  explanation  further 
than  Valcour's  accusation,  all  present  un- 
derstood that  the  Mexican  was  charged  with 
the  murder  of  the  man  found  in  the  shrub- 
bery and  therefore  he  must  either  have  the 
ring  upon  his  person  or  had  deposited  it  in 
some  secret  place. 

He  lay  unconscious  after  the  search  had 
ended,  and  Valcour,  after  a  moment's  re- 
flection, ordered  the  men  to  carry  him  back 
to  the  room  where  he  had  passed  the  night, 
to  guard  him  well,  and  to  send  for  a  phy- 
sician. 

The  Emperor  relighted  his  cigar,  which 
had  gone  out,  and  in  the  interval  I  heard 
the  sound  of  a  troup  of  horse  galloping  up 
the  drive.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
clank  of  sabers,  and  Dom  Pedro  leaned  for- 
ward with  an  expectant  look  upon  his  face, 
in  which  the  others  joined. 

Then  the  door  burst  open  and  a  man 
entered  and  knelt  before  the  Emperor.  I 
could  scarcely  restrain  a  cry  of  surprise  as  I 
saw  him. 

It  was  Francisco  Paola. 
[172] 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  DANGEROUS  MOMENT 

Not  since  I  parted  with  him  in  the  road 
on  the  morning  of  Dom  Miguel's  murder 
had  I  seen  Paola  or  heard  from  him  directly. 

At  that  time,  after  giving  me  two  men 
who  had  proved  faithful  both  to  me  and  the 
Cause,  he  had  ridden  on  to  the  house  of 
death — "to  breakfast  with  his  sister."  From 
that  moment  his  actions  had  been  a  mystery 
not  only  to  me  but  to  all  his  fellow-con- 
spirators. 

But  now  it  seemed  easy  to  understand 
that  the  Minister  of  Police  had  been  attend- 
ing to  the  Emperor's  business,  and  that  he 
had  also  been  playing  a  double  game  from 
the  beginning,  and  promoting  the  revolu- 
tion that  he  might  the  more  easily  crush  it. 

As  he  rose  to  his  feet  after  saluting  the 

Emperor,  Paola  glanced  around  the  room 

and  noted  my  presence.     I  could  not  well 

disguise  the  scorn  I  felt  for  this  treacherous 

[173] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

fellow,  and  as  he  met  my  eyes  he  smiled  and 
twirled  his  small  moustache  with  a  satisfied 
air. 

"Well?"  demanded  the  Emperor. 

"All  is  indeed  well,  your  Majesty,"  re- 
turned the  minister,  lightly.  "The  leaders 
of  the  conspiracy,  with  one  exception,  are 
now  under  arrest." 

"And  that  one?" 

"Sanchez  Bastro,  a  coffee-planter  with 
a  ranch  near  by.  He  has  crossed  the  bor- 
der. But  it  is  unimportant." 

"AndMendez?" 

"Imprisoned  in  the  citadel." 

"Barros?" 

"He  is  comforting  Mendez,  in  the  same 
cell." 

"Treverot?" 

"Unfortunately  we  were  obliged  to  shoot 
him.  He  chose  to  resist. 

"Hm!     AndPiexoto?" 

"Is  below,  under  arrest." 

"  Have  him  brought  here."  The  captain 
left  the  room,  and  again  the  Emperor  turned 
to  Paola. 

"You  have  done  well,  senhor;  and  your 
[174] 


A  Dangerous  Moment 

reward  shall  be  adequate.  It  was  a  far- 
reaching  plot,  and  dangerous."  And  Dom 
Pedro  sighed  as  if  greatly  relieved. 

Paola  brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from  his 
sleeve  and  laughed  in  his  silly  fashion. 

"The  serpent  is  only  dangerous,  your 
Majesty,  until  its  fangs  are  pulled,"  he 
drawled,  and  strolled  away  toward  Valcour, 
while  the  soldiers  brought  in  Senhor  Flori- 
ano  Piexoto. 

The  famous  patriot  was  not  only  hand- 
cuffed, but  his  elbows  were  bound  together 
by  cords  across  his  back.  But  despite  his 
bonds  he  walked  proudly  and  scowled  into 
Dom  Pedro's  face  as  he  confronted  him. 
Indeed,  I  was  filled  with  admiration  to  find 
that  this  man  whom  Fonseca  had  called 
"croaker"  could  be  brave  when  occasion 
demanded  it. 

"  So,  my  clever  statesman  has  seen  fit  to 
turn  traitor,"  began  the  Emperor,  sternly 
regarding  the  prisoner. 

"A  champion  of  Liberty  must  needs  be  a 
traitor  to  Dom  Pedro,"  replied  Piexoto, 
with  equal  sternness. 

"But  the  conspiracy  is  at  an  end,  and  I 
[175] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

am  inclined  to  be  merciful,"  resumed  the 
Emperor.  "  I  am  told  you  were  the  trusted 
friend  of  Miguel  de  Pintra,  and  knew  his 
secrets.  If  you  will  inform  us  how  to  unlock 
the  secret  vault,  I  will  promise  to  regard 
your  offense  lightly." 

Piexoto  stared  at  him  a  moment  indig- 
nantly. Then  he  turned  with  a  frown  upon 
Paola. 

"Ask  of  your  Minister  of  Police,"  he  re- 
torted; "for  there  stands  a  double  traitor! 
It  was  he  who  stood  closest  to  de  Pintra, 
winning  his  confidence  only  to  betray  it. 
It  was  Francisco  Paola  who  planned  the 
secret  vault.  Who  should  know  better  than 
he  how  to  open  it?" 

The  Emperor  turned  to  Paola  with  sus- 
picion written  visibly  upon  his  stern  features. 

" Did  you  plan  the  vault?"  he  demanded. 

"Truly,  your  Majesty.  Otherwise  the 
records  would  have  been  scattered  in  many 
places.  I  planned  the  vault  that  all  might 
be  concentrated  in  one  place — where  we 
should  find  them  when  we  were  ready  to  ex- 
plode the  conspiracy.  Records — plans — 
money — all  are  now  at  our  hand." 
[176] 


A  Dangerous  Moment 

"But  we  have  not  the  key.  Why  did 
you  plan  so  complicated  a  lock  ?" 

"Nothing  else  would  have  satisfied  de 
Pintra.  As  for  the  lock,  it  is  nothing.  A 
drill  through  one  of  the  steel  panels  would 
have  admitted  us  easily.  But — " 

"But  what,  sir?  Why  do  we  not  drill 
now,  instead  of  seeking  this  cursed  ring?" 

The  Minister  smiled  and  again  twirled 
his  moustaches. 

"Because  Dom  Miguel  suddenly  devel- 
oped inventive  genius  on  his  own  part.  I 
was  absent  when  the  work  was  completed, 
and  too  late  I  discovered  that  de  Pintra  had 
made  pockets  everywhere  between  the  steel 
plates,  and  filled  every  pocket  with  nitro- 
glycerine." 

"Well?" 

"That  is  all.  To  drill  into  the  vault  is 
to  explode  a  pocket  of  nitro-glycerine,  which 
in  turn  will  explode  all  the  other  pockets 
through  concussion." 

"And  then?" 

"And  then  the  contents  of  the  vault  would 
be  blown  to  atoms.  Of  the  mansion  itself 
not  one  stone  would  remain  upon  another. 

[177] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

The  records  we  seek  would  be  lost  irrevo- 
cably." 

Valcour,  pale  with  fear,  uttered  a  cry  and 
dashed  through  the  door,  while  the  Emperor 
rose  to  his  feet  with  a  look  of  terror  upon  his 
face. 

"They  are  drilling  now!"  he  gasped. 

Silently  we  stood,  none  daring  to  move; 
and  into  our  drawn  faces  Piexoto  gazed  with 
a  grim  and  derisive  smile. 

Paolo,  more  composed  than  any  of  the 
others,  except  Piexoto,  began  rolling  a  cigar- 
ette, but  remembering  the  Emperor's  pres- 
ence he  ceased. 

And  so  we  stood,  motionless  and  silent, 
until  footsteps  were  again  heard  and  Valcour 
re-entered  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead  with  an  embroidered  handkerchief. 
His  face  wore  a  look  of  relief,  but  there  was 
a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice  as  he  said: 

"I  have  ordered  the  drilling  stopped, 
your  Majesty." 

Dom  Pedro,  thus  reassured,  strode  back 
and  forth  in  evident  perplexity. 

"We  must  have  the  key!"  he  said,  an- 
grily. "There  is  no  other  way.  And  the 
[178] 


A  Dangerous  Moment 

key  cannot  be  far  off.  Has  your  prisoner, 
the  Mexican,  recovered?" 

"I  will  go  and  see,"  answered  the  detec- 
tive, and  again  left  the  room. 

I  caught  a  look  of  surprise  upon  the  face 
of  the  Minister  of  Police.  It  was  fleeting, 
but  I  was  sure  it  had  been  there. 

"May  I  inquire  who  this  prisoner  is?" 
he  asked.  One  of  the  men  who  acted  as 
secretary  to  the  Emperor,  receiving  a  nod 
from  Dom  Pedro,  informed  Paola  of  the 
finding  of  the  dead  body  in  the  shrubbery, 
and  of  the  consequent  arrest  of  the  Mexican. 

"And  the  key  was  not  found  in  his  pos- 
session?" he  inquired,  eagerly. 

"No." 

"Then  he  secreted  it,  fearing  arrest. 
Have  the  out-buildings  been  searched?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Let  it  be  done  at  once." 

Valcour,  entering  in  time  to  hear  this, 
flushed  angrily. 

"That  is  my  business,  Senhor  Paola.  I 
will  brook  no  interference  from  the  police." 

"Ah!  had  it  not  been  for  the  police, 
Senhor  Valcour  would  have  blown  his 
[179] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Emperor  into  eternity,"  returned  Paola, 
smiling  blandly  into  the  spy's  disturbed 
countenance. 

"Enough  of  this!"  cried  the  Emperor. 
"  Let  the  grounds  and  out-buildings  be  care- 
fully searched.  Is  your  prisoner  recovered, 
Valcour?" 

"He  is  raving  mad,"  returned  the  de- 
tective, in  a  surly  tone.  "It  requires  two 
soldiers  to  control  him." 

I  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  I  had  feared 
the  Mexican,  in  his  terror,  would  betray  the 
fact  that  he  had  given  me  the  ring. 


[180] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TRAITOR  TO  THE  CAUSE 

The  Emperor  retired  while  the  search 
of  the  grounds  was  being  conducted,  and 
Piexoto  and  I  were  escorted  to  another  room 
upon  the  ground  floor  and  locked  in.  There 
were  two  unbarred  windows  looking  upon 
the  grounds,  but  a  sentry  was  posted  at  each 
of  these,  and  as  we  were  still  hand-cuffed, 
our  escape  was  impossible. 

For  a  time  my  companion  did  nothing 
but  curse  Paola  in  the  most  hearty  and  di- 
versified manner,  and  I  made  no  effort  to 
stop  him.  But  finally  this  amusement 
grew  monotonous  even  to  its  author,  and  he 
asked  me  how  I  had  allowed  myself  to  be 
captured. 

I  therefore  related  my  adventures,  but 
said  nothing  about  the  ring. 

"I  have  always  suspected  Paola,"  he  told 
me,  "and  often  warned  Dom  Miguel  against 
him.  The  man's  very  nature  is  frivolous. 
[181] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

He  could  not  be  expected  to  keep  faith. 
Yet  it  is  surprising  he  did  not  choose  to 
betray  the  Emperor,  rather  than  us;  for 
the  Revolution  is  too  powerful  and  too  far 
advanced  to  be  quelled  by  the  arrest  of  a  few 
of  its  leaders." 

"But  what  of  Fonseca?"  I  asked  curious- 
ly. "Why  was  he  not  arrested  also?  Why 
was  not  his  name  mentioned  to  the  Em- 
peror?" 

"I  confess  the  fact  puzzles  me,"  returned 
Piexoto,  thoughtfully.  "Fonseca  is  even 
more  compromised  than  I  am  myself,  and 
unless  he  had  a  secret  understanding  with 
Paola,  and  purchased  immunity,  I  cannot 
account  for  his  escaping  arrest." 

"But  the  general  will  not  forsake  the 
cause,  I  am  sure,"  I  said,  earnestly.  "And 
it  seems  that  Senhor  Bastro,  also,  has  suc- 
ceeded in  eluding  arrest.  Therefore,  should 
the  royalists  fail  to  find  the  key  to  the  vault, 
all  may  yet  be  well,  in  spite  of  Paola's 
treachery." 

"There  is  another  perplexing  matter," 
returned  Piexoto,  pacing  the  room  in  deep 
thought.  "  Miguel  de  Pintra  never  told  me 
[182] 


Traitor  to  the  Cause 

the  vault  was  sheathed  with  nitre-glycerine. 
Did  you  know  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  "But  the  secret 
was  revealed  to  me  by  Lesba  Paola,  the 
Minister's  sister. 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  it,  nevertheless," 
he  resumed.  "Yet  what  object  could  the 
traitor  have  in  preventing  their  reaching  the 
records,  unless  he  knew  the  attempt  to  drill 
through  the  walls  would  destroy  us  all— 
himself  included  ?  " 

"Perhaps  he  has  fear  that  the  records 
would  incriminate  him  with  the  Emperor," 
I  suggested. 

"  Bah !  He  has  made  his  terms,  evident- 
ly. That  he  worked  faithfully  in  our  in- 
terests for  a  time  is  quite  believable;  but 
either  the  Emperor's  bribes  were  too  tempt- 
ing or  he  lost  faith  in  the  Cause." 

I  was  about  to  reply  w^hen  the  door 
opened  to  admit  Paola.  Piexoto  paused  in 
his  walk  to  glare  at  the  Minister,  and  I 
was  myself  no  less  surprised  at  the  in- 
opportune visit. 

But  Paola,  with  the  old,  smirking  smile 
upon  his  face  that  nothing  ever  seemed  to 
[183] 


banish,  nodded  pleasantly  at  us  and  sat 
down  in  an  easy-chair.  He  rolled  a  cigar- 
ette and  carefully  lighted  it  before  he  ad- 
dressed us. 

"Senhors,  you  are  about  to  denounce 
me  as  a  traitor  to  the  Cause,"  said  he;  "but 
you  may  both  spare  your  words.  Before 
the  Cause  existed  I  was  Minister  to  the  Em- 
peror. A  policeman  walks  in  devious  paths. 
If  I  am  true  to  the  oath  I  gave  the  Emperor, 
how  dare  you,  Floriano  Piexoto,  who  have 
violated  yours,  condemn  me?" 

"I  don't,"  answered  the  other.  "It  is 
absurd  to  condemn  a  man  like  you.  Treach- 
ery is  written  on  every  line  of  your  false  face. 
My  only  regret  is  that  I  did  not  kill  you  long 
ago." 

"Yet  the  chief,  Dom  Miguel  de  Pintra, 
trusted  me,"  remarked  Paola,  in  a  musing 
tone,  at  the  same  time  flicking  the  ash  from 
his  cigarette  with  a  deliberate  gesture.  "  He 
was,  it  seems,  the  only  one." 

"Not  so,"  said  I,  angry  at  his  insolent 
bearing.  :<  Your  sister,  sir,  had  faith  in  you." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  quizzical  expres- 
sion, and  laughed.  I  had  ventured  the  re- 
[184] 


Traitor  to  the  Cause 

mark  in  an  endeavor  to  pierce  his  shield  of 
conceit  and  indifference.  But  it  seemed 
that  even  Lesba's  misplaced  confidence 
failed  to  shame  him,  for  at  that  moment 
the  girl's  loyalty  to  the  Cause  seemed  to  me 
beyond  a  doubt. 

"My  sister  was,  I  believe,  an  ardent  re- 
publican. Poor  little  girl !  How  could  she 
judge  the  merits  of  a  political  controversy? 
But  there,  senhors,  let  us  have  done  with 
chidings.  I  am  come  for  the  key." 

Piexoto  and  I  stared  at  each  other  aghast. 
The  key !  Could  the  Minister  suspect  either 
of  us  of  possessing  it? 

"Quite  prettily  acted,  gentlemen,"  he 
resumed,  "but  it  is  useless  to  oppose  my 
request.  I  suppose  our  friend  Harcliffe  has 
passed  it  on  to  you,  senhor  ?  No  ?  Then 
he  must  have  it  on  his  person." 

"Are  you  mad?"  I  asked,  with  well- 
assumed  contempt. 

"No;  but  the  Mexican  is.  I  have  just 
left  his  room,  and  he  raves  perpetually  of  a 
ring  he  has  given  to  Robert  Harcliffe,  of 
New  Orleans.  A  ring  that  must  be  restored 
to  him  on  demand." 

[185] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"He  raves,"  said  I,  coolly,  although  my 
heart  was  beating  wildly. 

"He  does,  indeed,"  acknowledged  Paola. 
"And  he  tells  exactly  where  the  ring  was 
placed — in  the  outer  pocket  of  your  jacket. 
Will  you  pardon  me,  senhor,  if  I  prove  the 
truth  of  his  assertion?" 

He  rose  and  advanced  to  me  with  a  soft, 
stealthy  tread,  and  I  backed  away  until  I 
stood  fairly  against  the  wall,  vainly  endeav- 
oring to  find  some  way  to  circumvent  him. 

"Hold!"  cried  a  clear  voice,  and  as 
Paola  swung  around  upon  his  heel  I  saw 
beyond  him  the  form  of  Valcour  outlined  by 
the  dark  doorway. 

"You  were  doubtless  about  to  search  the 
prisoner,  senhor,"  said  the  spy,  calmly,  as 
he  approached  us.  "I  have  myself  just 
come  from  the  Mexican's  room  and  heard 
his  ravings.  But  the  task  must  be  mine, 
since  the  Emperor  has  placed  the  search  for 
the  key  in  my  hands." 

Paola  turned  with  a  slight  shrug  and  re- 
sumed his  seat. 

"I  have  searched  the  prisoner  already," 
he  announced,  "but  failed  to  find  the  ring. 
[186] 


Traitor  to  the  Cause 

Doubtless  he  has  passed  it  to  Piexoto,  or 
secreted  it.  Or,  it  may  be,  the  Mexican's 
words  are  mere  ravings." 

The  detective  hesitated. 

"Who  is  this  Mexican,  Senhor  Paola?" 
he  asked. 

"Frankly,  I  do  not  know.  Not  a  con- 
spirator, I  am  sure,  and  evidently  not  a 
royalist. ' ' 

"Then  how  came  he  to  know  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  ring?" 

"A  mystery,  my  dear  Valcour.  Have 
you  yet  identified  the  man  this  Mexican 
murdered?" 

"Not  yet." 

"I  myself  have  not  had  a  good  look  at 
the  body.  If  you  will  take  me  to  him  I  will 
endeavor  to  locate  the  fellow.  It  was 
doubtless  he  who  murdered  Madam  Iz- 
abel." 

As  he  spoke  he  rose  and  walked  quietly 
toward  the  door,  as  if  he  expected  Valcour 
to  follow.  But  the  spy,  suddenly  suspicious, 
cast  a  shrewd  glance  at  me  and  replied: 

"One  moment,  Senhor  Paola.  I  must 
satisfy  myself  that  neither  Harcliffe  nor 
[187] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Piexoto  has  the  ring,  in  order  that  I  may 
report  to  the  Emperor." 

"As  you  like,'*  returned  the  Minister, 
indifferently,  and  resumed  his  chair. 

Valcour  came  straight  to  my  side,  thrust 
his  hand  withimny  pocket,  and  drew  out  the 
ring. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  his  face  lighting  with 
joy,  "your  search  must  have  been  a  careless 
one,  my  dear  Paola!  Here  is  news  for  the 
Emperor,  at  last." 

He  hurried  from  the  room,  and  Paola, 
still  smiling,  rose  and  faced  us. 

"It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  he,  pleasantly, 
with  his  eyes  on  my  face,  "that  God  per- 
mits any  man  to  be  a  fool." 

Before  I  could  reply  he  had  followed 
Valcour  from  the  room,  and  Piexoto,  re- 
garding me  with  a  sullen  frown,  exclaimed : 

"  I  can  say  amen  to  that !  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  you  had  the  ring?" 

I  did  not  reply.  The  taunts  and  the  loss 
of  the  ring  had  dazed  me  and  I  sank  into 
a  chair  and  covered  my  eyes  with  my 
hands. 

Pacing  the  room  with  furious  energy, 
[188] 


Traitor  to  the  Cause 

Piexoto  growled  a  string  of  laments  and  re- 
proaches into  my  unwilling  ears. 

"  My  poor  comrades !  It  is  their  death- 
warrant.  These  records  will  condemn  to 
punishment  half  the  great  families  of  Bra- 
zil. And  now  when  the  battle  is  almost 
won,  to  have  them  fall  into  the  Emperor's 
hands.  Thank  God,  de  Pintra  is  dead! 
This  blow  would  be  worse  to  him  than 
death  itself." 

"  However,"  said  I,  somewhat  recovering 
myself,  "we  shall  now  secure  his  body  from 
that  grim  vault.  That  is  one  satisfaction, 
at  least." 

He  did  not  see  fit  to  reply  to  this,  but 
paced  the  floor  in  as  great  agitation  as  before. 

Captain  de  Souza  entered  with  two  of  his 
guards. 

"The  Emperor  commands  you  to  unlock 
the  vault,"  he  said  to  me.  "  Be  good  enough 
to  follow,  senhor.  And  Senhor  Piexoto  is 
also  requested  to  be  present." 

"Tell  the  Emperor  I  refuse  to  unlock  the 
vault,"  I  returned,  firmly. 

"And  why?"  demanded  Piexoto,  scorn- 
fully. "  It  is  merely  a  question  of  time,  now 
[189] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

that  they  have  the  key,  when  they  will  find 
the  right  indentation  in  the  door." 

"True,"  I  answered.  Then,  to  the  cap- 
tain: "Lead  on,  I  will  follow." 

They  escorted  us  to  the  library  and  down 
the  winding  stair  until  we  stood  in  the  well- 
known  chamber  at  the  end  of  the  passage. 
The  outer  door  of  the  vault  lay  open,  dis- 
playing the  steel  surface  of  the  inner  door, 
with  its  countless  indentations. 

The  Emperor  and  his  secretary,  together 
with  Paola  and  Valcour,  were  awaiting  us. 
The  latter  handed  me  the  ring. 

"  His  Majesty  commands  you  to  open  the 
door,  senhor  Americano,"  he  said. 

"  I  believe  the  Minister  of  Police  designed 
this  vault.  Let  him  open  it  himself,"  I  re- 
plied, my  resolution  halting-  at  the  thought 
of  what  the  open  door  would  reveal. 

"Yes,  I  designed  it,"  said  the  Minister, 
"but  I  did  not  execute  the  work.  Doubtless 
in  time  I  could  open  the  door;  but  the  Em- 
peror is  impatient." 

I  saw  that  further  resistance  was  useless. 
Bending  over,  I  fitted  the  stone  of  the  ring 
into  the  proper  indentation,  and  shot  the 
[190] 


Traitor  to  the  Cause 

bolts.  The  great  door  was  swung  upward, 
a  whiff  of  the  damp,  confined  air  entered 
my  nostrils  and  made  me  shiver. 

Reaching  my  hand  within  the  vault  I 
turned  the  switch  that  threw  on  the  electric 
light,  and  then  withdrew  that  the  others 
might  enter. 

But  no  one  moved.  The  light  illumin- 
ated the  full  interior  of  the  great  vault,  and 
every  eye  gazed  eagerly  within. 

Valcour  uttered  a  groan  of  baffled  rage; 
Piexoto  swore  horribly  in  a  scarcely  audi- 
ble tone,  and  the  Minister  of  Police  laughed. 

"Good  God!"  cried  the  Emperor,  with 
staring  eyeballs,  "the  vault  is  empty!" 


[191] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  TORCH  OF  REBELLION 

With  a  bound  I  stood  within  the  grim 
vault  and  searched  its  confines  with  anxious 
eyes.  True  enough,  the  place  was  empty. 
Not  a  scrap  of  paper,  a  book,  or  a  bank-note 
had  been  left  there.  The  shelves  that  lined 
the  walls  were  as  bare  as  Mother  Hubbard's 
cupboard. 

The  records  of  the  Revolution  were  gone. 
The  body  of  Miguel  de  Pintra  was  gone. 
Thank  God,  the  great  and  glorious  Cause 
was  as  yet  safe ! 

Valcour  was  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
prying  into  the  corners  for  some  scrap  that 
might  have  been  overlooked. 

Paola  stood  beside  me  with  the  old  ag- 
gravating simper  upon  his  face,  twirling  one 
end  of  his  moustache. 

Suddenly  Valcour  stood  up  and  faced 
him. 

"Traitor!"  he  cried,  with  a  passionate 
[192] 


The  Torch  of  Rebellion 

gesture,  "it  is  you  who  have  done  this!  It 
is  you  who  have  led  us  here  only  to  humiliate 
us  and  laugh  at  us!" 

'Your  Majesty,"  said  Paola,  without 
moving  his  head,  "will  you  kindly  protect 
me  from  the  insults  of  your  servants?" 

"Have  peace,  Valcour!"  growled  the 
Emperor.  "Senhor  Francisco  has  proved 
his  loyalty,  and  doubtless  shares  our  chag- 
rin. Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  leave  this 
dismal  place." 

I  followed  slowly  in  the  train  of  the  party 
as  it  wound  its  way  through  the  narrow  pas- 
sage and  up  the  iron  stairs  into  the  library. 
My  hand-cuffs  had  been  removed  when  I 
was  brought  to  open  the  vault,  and  an  idea 
came  to  me  to  lag  behind  and  try  to  effect 
my  escape  from  the  house. 

But  Valcour  was  waiting  for  me  at  the 
trap  door,  and  called  Captain  de  Souza  to 
guard  me.  I  was  taken  to  the  large  room 
on  the  ground  floor,  from  whence  they  had 
brought  me,  thrust  through  the  doorway, 
and  the  key  turned  upon  me. 

Piexoto  had  been  taken  elsewhere,  and  I 
found  myself  alone. 

[193] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

My  thoughts  were  naturally  confused  by 
the  amazing  discovery  we  had  just  made, 
and  I  was  so  engaged  in  wondering  what 
had  become  of  Dom  Miguel  and  the  records 
that  I  scarcely  looked  up  when  the  door 
opened  to  admit  Francisco  Paola. 

He  had  in  his  hand  a  small  parcel  that 
looked  like  a  box,  which  he  placed  upon  a 
table  near  the  open  window. 

Next  he  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pock- 
et, scribbled  some  lines  upon  three  several 
leaves,  and  then,  tearing  them  out,  he  reach- 
ed within  the  box,  taking  care  to  lift  but  a 
portion  of  the  cover,  and  busied  himself 
some  moments  in  a  way  that  made  me  won- 
der what  he  could  be  doing.  I  had  no  sus- 
picion of  the  truth  until  he  carried  the  box 
to  the  window  and  quickly  removed  the 
cover.  Then,  although  his  back  was  toward 
me,  I  heard  a  rapid  flutter  of  wings,  followed 
by  a  strange  silence,  and  I  knew  that  Paola 
was  following  with  his  eyes  the  flight  of  the 
birds  he  had  liberated. 

"So,  my  dear  Minister,  I  have  at  last 
discovered  your  secret!"  said  a  sharp  voice, 
and  as  Paola  whirled  about  I  noted  that 
[194] 


The  Torch  of  Rebellion 

Valcour  had  entered  the  room  and  was 
standing  with  folded  arms  and  eyes  that 
sparkled  triumphantly. 

"Orders  to  my  men,"  remarked  the 
Minister,  quietly,  and  brushed  a  small 
feather  from  his  arm. 

"True  enough !"  retorted  Valcour,  with  a 
bitter  smile.  "  Orders  to  General  Fonseca, 
whom  you  strangely  overlooked  in  making 
your  decoy  arrests.  Orders  to  Sanchez  Bas- 
tro,  who  is  to  distribute  arms  to  the  rebels ! 
And  where  did  the  third  pigeon  go,  my  loyal 
and  conscientious  Minister  of  Police?  To 
Mazanovitch,  or  to  that  Miguel  de  Pintra 
whom  you  falsely  led  us  to  believe  had  per- 
ished in  yonder  vault?" 

He  came  close  to  the  Minister. 

"Traitor!  In  setting  free  these  birds 
you  have  fired  the  torch  of  rebellion;  that 
terrible  flame  which  is  liable  to  sweep  the 
land,  and  consume  royalist  and  republican 
alike!" 

Paola,  the  sneering  smile  for  once  gone 
from  his  face,  gazed  at  his  accuser  with 
evident  admiration. 

"You  are  wonderfully  clever,  my  dear 
[195] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Valcour,"  said  he,  slowly.  "You  have  wit; 
you  have  a  clear  judgment;  your  equal  is 
not  in  all  Brazil.  What  a  pity,  my  friend, 
that  you  are  not  one  of  us !" 

Somehow,  the  words  seemed  to  ring  true. 

Valcour  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"I  hate  you,"  he  cried,  stamping  his  foot 
with  passion.  "You  have  thwarted  me 
always.  You  have  laughed  at  me — sneered 
at  me — defied  me!  But  at  last  I  have  you 
in  the  toils.  Francisco  Paola,  I  arrest  you 
in  the  name  of  the  Emperor." 

"On  what  charge?" 

"The  charge  of  treason!" 

Paola  laughed  softly,  and  in  a  tone  de- 
noting genuine  amusement. 

"Come,  my  brave  detective,"  said  he; 
"we  will  go  to  the  Emperor  together,  and 
accuse  each  other  to  our  hearts'  content!" 

He  attempted  to  take  Valcour's  arm,  in 
his  inimitable  jaunty  fashion;  but  the  spy 
shook  him  off  and  followed  Paola  from  the 
room,  trembling  with  suppressed  rage. 

For  my  part,  I  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  the  scene,  except  that  these  men  were  bit- 
ter enemies,  and  each  endeavoring  to  destroy 
[196] 


The  Torch  of  Rebellion 

the  other.  But  could  Valcour's  accusation 
be  true?  Had  the  torch  of  revolution  really 
been  fired? 

God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  meet  with 
such  another  man  as  Francisco  Paola  again ! 
Deep  or  shallow,  coxcomb  or  clever  con- 
spirator, true  man  or  traitor — it  was  as  im- 
possible to  read  him  or  to  judge  his  real 
character  as  to  solve  the  mighty,  unfathom- 
able secrets  of  Nature. 

One  moment  I  called  him  traitor;  the 
next  I  was  sure  he  was  faithful  to  the  Cause. 
But  who  could  judge  the  man  aright?  Not 
I,  indeed! 

Thus  reflecting,  I  approached  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out.  Eight  feet  below  me 
one  of  the  Uruguayan  guards  paced  back 
and  forth  upon  the  green  lawn,  his  short 
carbine  underneath  his  arm,  and  a  poniard 
swinging  at  his  side. 

The  fellow  looked  up  and  saw  me. 

"Close  that  window!"  he  commanded, 
with  a  scowl. 

I  obeyed,  sliding  the  sash  to  its  place. 
But  still  I  gazed  through  the  glass  at  the 
labyrinth  of  walks  and  hedges  defining  the 
[197] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

extensive  gardens  at  this  side  of  the  house. 
I  knew  every  inch  of  these  grounds,  having 
wandered  there  many  hours  during  my  so- 
journ at  the  mansion.  And  the  thought 
came  to  me  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
escape  in  that  maze  of  hedge  and  shrubbery, 
had  I  once  a  fair  start  of  my  pursuers. 

Within  my  range  of  vision  was  a  portion 
of  the  driveway,  and  presently  I  saw  the 
Emperor's  carriage  roll  away,  followed  by 
several  others.  Piexoto  was  seated  in  the 
last  of  the  carriages,  but  only  a  small  portion 
of  the  Uruguayan  guard  accompanied  the 
cortege. 

I  tried  to  see  if  the  Minister  of  Police  was 
among  those  who  were  returning  to  Rio,  but 
was  unable  to  note  his  presence  in  the  brief 
time  the  carriages  were  in  view.  Nor  did 
Valcour  seem  to  be  with  them.  Captain  de 
Souza  evidently  remained  in  charge  of  the 
guards  left  at  the  mansion. 

Well,  I  longed  to  leave  the  place  myself, 
now  that  the  emptiness  of  the  secret  vault 
had  been  disclosed;  but  for  some  reason 
my  captors  desired  me  to  remain  a  prisoner. 

The  day  dragged  wearily  away.  One 
[198] 


The  Torch  of  Rebellion 

of  the  Uruguayans  brought  me  food  at  noon- 
time, and  I  ate  with  good  appetite.  The 
room  grew  close,  but  when  I  attempted  to 
raise  the  window  the  surly  guard  outside 
presented  his  carbine,  and  I  respected  his 
wish  to  leave  the  sash  lowered. 

During  this  time  I  had  ample  opportu- 
nity to  speculate  upon  the  astonishing  events 
of  the  morning;  but  my  attempt  to  solve 
the  problem  of  what  had  become  of  Dom 
Miguel  and  the  records  seemed  absolutely 
futile.  That  the  body  of  the  chief  had  been 
removed  by  some  friendly  hand — the  same 
that  had  saved  the  funds  and  papers — there 
was  no  doubt  whatever.  But  when  had 
this  removal  taken  place? 

At  one  time  a  fleeting  hope  animated  me 
that  the  vault  had  been  entered  in  time  to 
save  Dom  Miguel  from  suffocation;  but  a 
little  reflection  soon  caused  me  to  abandon 
that  notion.  Allowing  that  the  slayer  of 
Madam  Izabel  had  been  a  patriot,  and  left 
the  train  at  the  first  station  beyond  Cruz, 
he  could  not  possibly  have  returned  to  de 
Pintra's  mansion  on  the  swiftest  horse  within 
eight  hours  of  the  time  my  friend  had  been 
[199] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

entombed  alive,  and  long  before  that  Dom 
Miguel  would  have  succumbed  to  the  con- 
fined atmosphere  of  his  prison. 

Moreover,  none  of  the  conspirators  who 
knew  of  the  ring  or  was  competent  to  recog- 
nize it  had  been  on  the  train  at  the  time  of 
Izabel  de  Mar's  death.  Therefore  the  pa- 
triot who  finally  secured  the  key  to  the  vault 
and  saved  the  records  must  have  obtained 
the  ring  long  after  any  hope  of  saving  the 
life  of  the  imprisoned  chief  had  been  aban- 
doned. 

Somehow,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  man 
in  the  shrubbery  had  not  been  murdered 
by  the  Mexican,  but  by  some  one  of  our 
band  who  had  promptly  cleared  the  vault 
and  escaped  with  the  contents — even  while 
the  Emperor  and  his  party  were  in  possession 
of  the  house.  The  ring  might  have  been 
dropped  during  the  escape  and  found  by 
the  Mexican — this  being  the  only  plausible 
way  to  account  for  its  being  in  his  possession. 

Although  these  speculations  were  to  some 

extent  a  diversion,  and  served  to  occupy  my 

thoughts  during  my  tedious  confinement, 

there  were  many  details  to  contradict  their 

[200] 


The  Torch  of  Rebellion 

probability,  and  I  was  not  at  all  positive  that 
I  had  discovered  the  right  explanation  of  the 
mystery. 

It  must  have  been  near  evening  when  the 
door  was  again  opened.  This  time  a  man 
was  thrust  into  the  room  and  the  door 
quickly  locked  upon  us. 

I  started  from  my  chair  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  dismay.  My  fellow-prisoner  was 
the  mad  Mexican! 


[201] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  NARROW  ESCAPE 

The  man  did  not  seem  to  notice  my 
presence  at  first.  For  a  time  he  remained 
motionless  in  the  position  the  guards  had 
left  him,  his  vacant  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon 
the  opposite  wall. 

Then,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh,  his  gaze 
fell  and  wandered  to  the  table  where  stood 
the  remains  of  my  luncheon.  With  a  wolf- 
like  avidity  he  pounced  upon  the  tray,  eager- 
ly consuming  every  scrap  that  I  had  left, 
and  draining  a  small  bottle  of  wine  of  the 
last  dregs  it  contained. 

When  he  had  finished  he  still  continued 
to  fumble  about  the  tray,  and  presently 
picked  up  a  large,  two-tined  steel  fork  and 
examined  it  with  careful  attention.  They 
had  brought  no  knife  into  the  room,  and  I 
had  scarcely  noticed  the  fork  before;  yet 
now,  as  the  Mexican  held  it  firmly  in  his 
clinched  fist,  and  passed  it  to  and  fro  with  a 
[202] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

serpent-like  motion,  I  realized  with  a  thrill 
of  anxiety  that  it  might  prove  a  terrible 
weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  desperate  man. 

Evidently  my  fellow-prisoner  had  the 
same  thought,  for  after  a  time  he  concealed 
the  fork  in  his  bosom,  and  then  turned  to 
examine  the  room  more  carefully.  His 
first  act  was  to  approach  the  window,  and 
when  he  started  and  shrank  away  I  knew 
our  ever- vigilant  guard  had  warned  him  not 
to  consider  that  avenue  of  escape. 

Next  he  swung  around  and  faced  the 
place  where  I  sat,  slightly  in  the  shadow. 
The  day  was  drawing  to  its  close,  and  he  had 
not  noticed  me  before.  A  swift  motion 
toward  his  breast  was  followed  by  a  smile, 
and  he  advanced  close  to  me  and  said,  in  his 
stumbling  English: 

"Aha!  My  American  frien'  to  which  I 
gave  the  ring!  It  is  safe,  senor?  It  is 
safe?" 

I  nodded,  thinking  to  humor  him.  In- 
deed, I  could  not  determine  at  that  moment 
whether  the  man  was  still  insane  or  not. 

He  drew  a  chair  to  my  side  and  sat 
down. 

[203] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  Listen,  then,  my  frien'.  Together  we 
will  find  riches  —  riches  very  great!  Why? 
Because  we  Mexicans  —  Careno  and  my- 
self—  we  build  the  door  of  the  big  vault 
under  this  house.  So?  They  bring  us 
here  blindfold.  We  work  many  days  on 
the  big  plate  with  strange  device  cut  in  the 
steel.  Careno  was  expert.  Only  one  place, 
cut  with  great  cunning,  shot  the  bolts  in 
their  sockets.  For  myself,  I  am  clock- 
maker  and  gem-cutter.  They  tell  me  to 
cut  emerald  so  it  fit  the  plate,  and  mount 
it  in  ring.  Yes,  it  was  I,  Senor  Americano, 
who  do  that  fine  work  —  I,  Manuel  Pesta ! 

"Then  they  carry  us  away,  blindfold 
again,  to  the  border  of  Uruguay.  We  do 
not  know  this  house  —  we  cannot  find  it 
again  ever.  So  they  think.  But  to  make 
sure  they  hire  men  to  assassinate  us  —  to 
stab  us  to  the  heart  in  those  Uruguay 
Mountain.  Fine  pay  for  our  work  —  eh, 
senor?  But,  pestej  Careno  and  I — we 
stab  our  assassins  —  we  escape  —  we  swear 
vengeance!  For  two  year  we  wander  in 
Brazil  —  seeking,  ever  seeking  for  the  house 
with  the  vault. 

[204] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

"  How  clever  they  are !  But  we,  are  we 
not  also  clever?  On  a  railway  train  one 
day  we  see  a  lady  with  the  ring!  We  can- 
not mistake  —  I  made  it,  and  I  know  my 
work.  It  is  key  to  the  big  vault!  Careno 
cannot  wait.  He  sit  beside  lady  and  put 
his  knife  in  her  heart.  The  train  rattle 
along  and  the  lady  make  no  noise.  But  the 
ring  sticks,  so  Careno  cuts  off  finger  and 
puts  in  pocket.  Are  we  not  clever,  serior? 
Now  we  have  ring,  but  yet  know  not  of  the 
house  with  the  vault.  We  keep  quiet  and 
ride  on  to  Rio.  There  the  dead  lady  is 
carried  out  and  all  is  excitement.  She  is 
Senora  Izabel  de  Mar,  daughter  of  Dom 
Miguel  de  Pintra.  She  come  from  her 
father's  house  at  Cuyaba.  This  we  hear 
and  remember.  Then  a  man  they  call 
Valcour  he  rush  up  and  cry,  'Her  finger 
is  gone!  The  ring  —  where  is  the  ring?' 
Aha !  we  know  now  we  are  right. 

"So  we  go  away  and  find  out  about 
Miguel  de  Pintra  —  the  head  of  great 
rebellion  with  millions  of  gold  and  notes  to 
pay  the  soldiers  when  they  fight.  Good! 
We  know  now  of  the  vault.  We  know  we 
[205] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

have  key.  We  know  we  are  now  rich! 
Careno  and  I  we  go  to  Cuyaba  —  we  find 
this  house  —  we  hide  in  the  bushes  till 
night.  Then  Careno  get  mad  for  the 
money  —  he  want  it  all,  not  half  --  and  he 
try  to  murder  me.  Ah,  well!  my  pistol 
is  quicker  than  his  knife,  that  is  all.  He 
is  wearing  ring,  and  it  stick  like  it  stick  on 
lady's  hand.  Bah !  I  cut  off  Careno's  hand 
and  carve  away  the  ring.  It  is  simple,  is 
it  not? 

"But  now  the  soldiers  gallop  up.  The 
house  is  fill  with  people.  So  I  must  wait. 
I  hide  in  secret  place,  but  soon  they 
drag  me  out  and  make  me  prisoner.  What ! 
must  I  lose  all  now  —  millions  —  millions 
of  gold  —  and  no  Careno  to  share  it?  No! 
I  am  still  clever.  I  keep  ring  in  mouth 
until  I  meet  you,  and  I  give  it  to  you  to 
keep.  When  they  search  me,  there  is  no 
ring." 

He  sprang  up,  chuckling  and  rubbing 
his  hands  together  in  great  delight.  He 
danced  a  step  or  two  and  then  drew  the 
steel  fork  from  his  breast  and  struck  it 
fiercely  into  the  table-top,  standing  silently 
[206] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

to  watch  it  while  the  prongs  quivered  and 
came  to  rest. 

"Am  I  not  clever?"  he  again  asked, 
drawing  out  the  fork  from  the  wood  and 
returning  it  to  his  breast.  But  I  am 
generous,  too.  You  shall  divide  with  me. 
But  not  half!  I  won  all  from  Careno,  but 
you  shall  have  some  —  enough  to  be  rich, 
sefior  Americano.  And  now,  give  me  the 
ring!" 

By  this  time  his  eyes  were  glittering  with 
insanity,  and  at  his  abrupt  demand  I 
shifted  uneasily  in  my  seat,  not  knowing 
how  to  reply. 

"Give  me  the  ring!"  he  repeated,  a  tone 
of  menace  creeping  into  his  high-pitched 
voice. 

I  arose  and  walked  toward  the  window, 
getting  the  table  between  us.  Then  I 
turned  and  faced  him. 

"They  have  taken  the  ring  from  me." 
I  said. 

He  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone,  his  fierce 
eyes  fixed  upon  my  own. 

"They  have  opened  the  vault  with  it," 
I  continued,  "  and  found  it  bare  and  empty." 

[207] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

He  gave  a  shrill  scream  at  this,  and 
began  trembling  in  every  limb. 

"You  lie!"  he  shouted,  wildly.  "You 
try  to  cheat  me  —  to  get  all !  And  the  vault 
has  millions  —  millions  in  gold  and  notes. 
Give  me  the  ring!" 

I  made  no  reply.  To  reiterate  my 
assertion  would  do  no  good,  and  the  man 
was  incompetent  to  consider  the  matter 
calmly.  Indeed,  he  once  more  drew  that 
ugly  fork  from  his  breast  and,  grasping  it 
as  one  would  a  dagger,  began  creeping 
toward  me  with  a  stealthy,  cat-like  tread. 

I  approached  the  edge  of  the  round 
center-table,  alert  to  keep  its  breadth 
between  me  and  my  companion.  The 
Mexican  paused  opposite  me,  and  whis- 
pered between  his  clinched  teeth: 

"Give  it  me!     Give  me  the  ring!" 

"The  guard  will  be  here  presently," 
said  I,  fervently  hoping  I  spoke  the  truth, 
"and  he  will  tell  you  of  the  ring.  I  am 
quite  sure  Senhor  Valcour  has  it." 

"  Ah,  I  am  betrayed !  You  wish  to  take 
all  —  you  and  this  Valcour !  But  see,  my 
Americano  —  I  will  kill  you.  I  will  kill 

[208] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

you  now,  and  then  you  have  nothing  for 
your  treachery!" 

Slowly  he  edged  his  way  around  the 
table,  menacing  me  with  his  strange  weapon, 
and  with  my  eyes  fixed  upon  his  I  moved 
in  the  opposite  direction,  retaining  the  table 
as  my  shield. 

First  in  one  direction  and  then  in  the 
other  he  moved,  swiftly  at  times,  then  with 
deliberate  caution,  striving  ever  to  take  me 
unawares  and  reach  me  with  his  impro- 
vised dagger. 

This  situation  could  not  stand  the  ten- 
sion for  long ;  I  realized  that  sooner  or  later 
the  game  must  have  an  abrupt  ending. 

So,  as  I  dodged  my  persistent  enemy,  I 
set  my  wits  working  to  devise  a  means  of 
escape.  The  window  seemed  my  only  hope, 
and  I  had  lost  all  fear  of  the  sentry  in  the 
more  terrible  danger  that  confronted  me. 

Suddenly  I  exerted  my  strength  and 
thrust  the  table  against  the  Mexican  so 
forcibly  that  he  staggered  backward.  Then 
I  caught  up  a  chair  and  after  a  swing  around 
my  head  hurled  it  toward  him  like  a  cata- 
pult. It  crushed  him  to  the  floor,  and  e'er 
[209] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

he  could  rise  again  I  had  thrown  up  the 
sash  of  the  window  and  leaped  out. 

Fortune  often  favors  the  desperate.  I 
alighted  full  upon  the  form  of  the  unsus- 
pecting sentry,  bearing  him  to  the  ground  by 
my  weight,  where  we  both  rolled  in  the  grass. 

Quickly  I  regained  my  feet  and  darted 
away  into  the  flower-garden,  seeking  to 
reach  the  hedges  before  my  guard  could 
recover  himself. 

Over  my  shoulder  I  saw  him  kneeling 
and  deliberately  pointing  at  me  his  carbine. 
Before  he  could  fire  the  flying  form  of  the 
Mexican  descended  upon  him  from  the 
window.  There  was  a  flash  and  a  report, 
but  the  ball  went  wide  its  mark,  and 
instantly  the  two  men  were  struggling  in  a 
death-grapple  upon  the  lawn. 

Away  I  ran  through  the  maze  of  hedge 
and  shrubbery,  threading  the  well-known 
paths  unerringly.  I  heard  excited  shouts 
as  the  guardsmen,  aroused  by  their  com- 
rade's shot,  poured  from  the  mansion  and 
plunged  into  the  gardens  to  follow  me. 
But  it  was  dusk  by  this  time,  and  I  had 
little  fear  of  being  overtaken. 
[210] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

The  estate  was  bounded  upon  this  side 
by  an  impenetrable  thick-set  hedge,  but  it 
was  broken  in  one  place  by  a  gardeners' 
tool-house,  which  had  a  door  at  each  side, 
and  thus  admitted  one  into  a  lane  that 
wound  through  a  grove  and  joined  the 
main  highway  a  mile  beyond. 

Reaching  this  tool-house  I  dashed  within, 
closed  and  barred  the  door  behind  me,  and 
then  emerged  upon  the  lane. 

To  my  surprise  I  saw  a  covered  carriage 
standing  in  the  gloom,  and  made  out  that 
the  door  stood  open  and  a  man  upon  the 
box  was  holding  the  reins  and  leaning 
toward  me  eagerly  as  if  striving  to  solve  my 
identity. 

Without  hesitation  I  sprang  into  the  car- 
riage and  closed  the  door,  crying  to  the  man : 

"Quick!    for  your  life  —  drive  on!" 

Without  a  word  he  lashed  his  horses  and 
we  started  with  a  jerk  that  threw  me  into  the 
back  seat. 

I  heard  an  exclamation  in  a  woman's 

startled    voice    and    felt    a    muffled    form 

shrinking  into  the  corner  of  the  carriage. 

Then  two  shots  rang  out;  I  heard  a  scream 

[211] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

and  the  sound  of  a  fall  as  the  driver  pitched 
upon  the  ground,  and  now  like  the  wind 
the  maddened  horses  rushed  on  without 
guidance,  swaying  the  carriage  from  side 
to  side  with  a  dangerous  motion. 

These  Brazilian  carriages  have  a  trap 
in  the  top  to  permit  the  occupants  to 
speak  to  the  driver.  I  found  this  trap, 
threw  it  upward,  and  drew  myself  up  until 
I  was  able  to  scramble  into  the  vacant  seat. 
The  reins  had  fallen  between  the  horses, 
evidently,  but  we  were  now  dashing  through 
the  grove,  and  the  shadows  were  so  deep 
that  I  could  distinguish  nothing  distinctly. 

Cautiously  I  let  myself  down  until  my 
feet  touched  the  pole,  and  then,  resting  my 
hands  upon  the  loins  of  the  madly  galloping 
animals,  I  succeeded  in  grasping  the  reins 
and  returned  safely  to  the  box  seat. 

Then  I  braced  myself  to  conquer  the 
runaways,  and  when  we  emerged  from  the 
grove  and  came  upon  the  highway  there 
was  sufficient  light  for  me  to  keep  the 
horses  in  the  straight  road  until  they  had 
tired  themselves  sufficiently  to  be  brought 
under  control. 

[212] 


A  Narrow  Escape 

During  this  time  I  had  turned  to  speak 
a  reassuring  word,  now  and  then,  to  the 
unknown  woman  in  the  carriage. 

Doubtless  she  had  been  both  amazed 
and  indignant  at  my  abrupt  seizure  of  her 
equipage;  but  there  was  not  yet  time  to 
explain  to  her  my  necessity. 

We  were  headed  straight  for  the  station 
at  Cuyaba,  and  I  decided  at  once  to  send 
a  telegram  warning  Mazanovitch  of  danger. 
For  Paola  had  turned  traitor,  the  vault 
had  been  opened,  and  the  Emperor  was 
even  now  on  his  way  to  Rio  to  arrest  all 
who  had  previously  escaped  the  net  of  the 
Minister  of  Police. 

So  we  presently  dashed  up  to  the  station, 
which  was  nearly  deserted  at  this  hour,  and 
after  calling  a  porter  to  hold  the  horses 
I  went  into  the  station  to  write  my  tele- 
gram. 

Mazanovitch  had  asked  me  to  use  but 
one  word,  and  although  I  had  much  of 
interest  to  communicate,  a  moment's  thought 
assured  me  that  a  warning  of  danger  was 
sufficient. 

So,  after  a  brief  hesitation,  I  wrote  the 
[213] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

word  "Lesba,"   and  handed  the  message 
to  the  operator. 

"That  is  my  name,  senhor,"  said  a 
soft  voice  behind  me,  and  I  turned  to  con- 
front Lesba  Paola. 


[214] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  WAYSIDE  INN 

Astonishment  rendered  me  speechless, 
and  at  first  I  could  do  no  more  than  bow 
with  an  embarrassed  air  to  the  cloaked 
figure  before  me.  Lesba's  fair  face,  peering 
from  beneath  her  mantilla,  was  grave  but 
set,  and  her  brilliant  eyes  bore  a  questioning 
and  half -contemptuous  look  that  was  hard 
to  meet. 

"That  is  my  name,  senhor,"  she  re- 
peated, "  and  you  will  oblige  me  by  explain- 
ing why  you  are  sending  it  to  Captain 
Mazanovitch." 

"Was  it  your  carriage  in  which  I  es- 
caped?" I  inquired. 

"Yes;  and  my  man  now  lies  wounded 
by  the  roadside.  Why  did  you  take  me 
by  surprise,  Senhor  Harcliffe?  And  why  — 
why  are  you  telegraphing  my  name  to 
Mazanovitch?" 

Although  my  thoughts  were  somewhat 
[215] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

confused  I  remembered  that  Lesba  had 
accompanied  her  brother  to  Rio;  that  her 
brother  had  turned  traitor,  and  she  herself 
had  ridden  in  the  Emperor's  carriage,  with 
the  spy  Valcour.  And  I  wondered  how  it 
was  that  her  carriage  should  have  been 
standing  this  very  evening  at  a  retired  spot, 
evidently  awaiting  some  one,  when  I  chanced 
upon  it  in  my  extremity. 

It  is  well  to  take  time  to  consider,  when 
events  are  of  a  confusing  nature.  In  that 
way  thoughts  are  sometimes  untangled. 
Now,  in  a  flash,  the  truth  came  to  me. 
Valcour  was  still  at  the  mansion  —  Valcour, 
her  accomplice;  perhaps  her  lover. 

To  realize  this  evident  fact  of  her 
intrigue  with  my  brilliant  foe  sent  a  shiver 
through  me  —  a  shiver  of  despair  and  utter 
weariness.  Still  keeping  my  gaze  upon  the 
floor,  and  noting,  half-consciously,  the  click- 
click  of  the  telegraph  instrument,  I  said: 

"Pardon  me,  donzella,  for  using  your 
carriage  to  effect  my  escape.  You  see, 
I  have  not  made  an  alliance  with  the  royal- 
ists, as  yet,  and  my  condition  is  somewhat 
dangerous.  As  for  the  use  of  your  name 
[216] 


The  Wayside  Inn 

in  my  telegram,  I  have  no  objection  to 
telling  you  —  now  that  the  message  has 
been  sent  —  that  it  was  a  cypher  word  warn- 
ing my  republican  friends  of  treachery." 

"  Do  you  suspect  me  of  treachery,  Senhor 
Harcliffe?"  she  asked  in  cold,  scornful  tones. 

I  looked  up,  but  dropped  my  eyes  again 
as  I  confronted  the  blaze  of  indignation 
that  flashed  from  her  own. 

"  I  make  no  accusations,  donzella.  What 
is  it  to  me  if  you  Brazilians  fight  among 
yourselves  for  freedom  or  the  Emperor,  as 
it  may  suit  your  fancy?  I  came  here  to 
oblige  a  friend  of  my  father's  —  the  one 
true  man  I  have  found  in  all  your  intrigue- 
ridden  country.  But  he,  alas !  is  dead,  and 
I  am  powerless  to  assist  farther  the  cause 
he  loved.  So  my  mission  here  is  ended, 
and  I  will  go  back  to  America." 

Again  I  looked  up;  but  this  time  her 
eyes  were  lowered  and  her  expression  was 
set  and  impenetrable. 

"  Do  not  let  us  part  in  anger,"  I  resumed, 

a  tremor  creeping  into  my  voice  in  spite 

of  me  —  for  this  girl  had  been  very  dear 

to  my  heart.     "Let  us  say  we  have  both 

[217] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

acted  according  to  the  dictates  of  conscience, 
and  cherish  only  memories  of  the  happy 
days  we  have  passed  together,  to  comfort 
us  in  future  years." 

She  started,  with  upraised  hand  and 
eager  face  half  turned  toward  the  door.  Far 
away  in  the  distance  I  heard  the  tramp  of 
many  hoofs. 

"They  are  coming,  senhor!"  called  the 
man  who  stood  beside  the  horses  —  one  of 
our  patriots.  "  It's  the  troop  of  Uruguayans, 
I  am  sure." 

Pedro,  the  station-master,  ran  from  his 
little  office  and  extinguished  the  one  dim 
lamp  that  swung  from  the  ceiling  of  the 
room  in  which  we  stood. 

In  the  darkness  that  enveloped  us  Lesba 
grasped  my  arm  and  whispered  "Come!" 
dragging  me  toward  the  door.  A  moment 
later  we  were  beside  the  carriage. 

"Mount!"  she  cried,  in  a  commanding 
voice.  "I  will  ride  inside.  Take  the  road 
to  San  Tarem.  Quick,  senhor,  as  you 
value  both  our  lives !" 

I  gathered  up  the  reins  as  Pedro  slammed 
tight  the  carriage  door.  A  crack  of  the 
[218] 


The  Wayside  Inn 

whip,  a  shout  of  encouragement  from  the 
two  patriots,  and  we  had  dashed  away  upon 
the  dim  road  leading  to  the  wild,  unsettled 
plains  of  the  North  Plateau. 

They  were  good  horses.  It  surprised 
me  to  note  their  mettle  and  speed,  and  I 
guessed  they  had  been  carefully  chosen 
for  the  night's  work  —  an  adventure  of 
which  this  denouement  was  scarcely  ex- 
pected. I  could  see  the  road  but  dimly, 
but  I  gave  the  horses  slack  rein  and  they 
sped  along  at  no  uncertain  pace. 

I  could  no  longer  hear  the  hoof-beats 
of  the  guards,  and  judged  that  either  we 
had  outdistanced  them  or  the  shrewd 
Pedro  had  sent  them  on  a  false  scent. 

Presently  the  sky  brightened,  and  as 
the  moon  shone  clear  above  us  I  found  that 
we  were  passing  through  a  rough  country 
that  was  but  sparsely  settled.  I  remembered 
to  have  ridden  once  in  this  direction  with 
Lesba,  but  not  so  far;  and  the  surround- 
ings were  therefore  strange  to  me. 

For  an  hour  I  drove  steadily  on,  and 
then  the  girl  spoke  to  me  through  the  open 
trap  in  the  roof  of  the  carriage. 
[219] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"A  mile  or  so  further  will  bring  us  to  a 
fork  in  the  road.  Keep  to  the  right,"  said  she. 

I  returned  no  answer,  although  I  was 
burning  to  question  her  of  many  things.  But 
time  enough  for  that,  I  thought,  when  we 
were  safely  at  our  journey's  end.  Indeed, 
Lesba's  mysterious  actions — her  quick  re- 
turn from  Rio  in  the  wake  of  the  Emperor 
and  Valcour,  her  secret  rendezvous  in  the 
lane,  which  I  had  so  suddenly  surprised 
and  interrupted,  and  her  evident  desire  to 
save  me  from  arrest  —  all  this  was  not  only 
contradictory  to  the  frank  nature  of  the 
girl,  but  to  the  suspicions  I  had  formed  of 
her  betrayal  of  the  conspiracy  in  co-operation 
with  her  treacherous  brother. 

The  key  to  the  mystery  was  not  mine, 
and  I  could  only  wait  until  Lesba  chose 
to  speak  and  explain  her  actions. 

I  came  to  the  fork  in  the  road  and 
turned  to  the  right.  The  trail  —  for  it  had 
become  little  more  than  that  —  now  skirted 
a  heavy  growth  of  underbrush  that  merged 
into  groves  of  scattered,  stunted  trees;  and 
these  in  time  gradually  became  more  com- 
pact and  stalwart  until  a  great  Brazilian 

[220] 


The  Wayside  Inn 

forest  threw  its  black  shadow  over  us. 
Noiselessly  the  carriage  rolled  over  the 
beds  of  moss,  which  were  so  thick  now  that 
I  could  scarcely  hear  a  sound  of  the  horses' 
hoofs,  and  then  I  discerned  a  short  distance 
ahead  the  outlines  of  an  old,  weather- 
beaten  house. 

Lesba  had  her  head  through  the  trap  and 
spoke  close  to  my  ear. 

"Stop  at  this  place,"  said  she;  "for  here 
our  journey  ends." 

I  pulled  up  the  horses  opposite  the 
dwelling  and  regarded  it  somewhat  doubt- 
fully. It  had  been  built  a  hundred  yards 
or  so  from  the  edge  of  the  dense  forest  and 
seemed  utterly  deserted.  It  was  a  large 
house,  with  walls  of  baked  clay  and  a 
thatched  roof,  and  its  neglected  appearance 
and  dreary  surroundings  gave  it  a  fearsome 
look  as  it  stood  lifeless  and  weatherstained 
under  the  rays  of  the  moon. 

"Is  the  place  inhabited?"  I  asked. 

"It  must  be,"  she  replied.  "Go  to  the 
door,  and  knock  upon  it  loudly." 

"But  the  horses  —  who  will  mind  them, 
donzella?" 

[221] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Instantly  she  scrambled  through  the 
trap  to  the  seat  beside  me  and  took  the 
reins  in  her  small  hands. 

"I  will  look  after  the  horses,"  said  she. 

So  I  climbed  down  and  approached  the 
door.  It  was  sheltered  by  a  rude  porch, 
and  flanked  upon  either  side  by  well-worn 
benches  such  as  are  frequent  at  wayside 
inns. 

I  pounded  upon  the  door  and  then 
paused  to  listen.  The  sounds  drew  a  hollow 
reverberation  from  within,  but  aroused  no 
other  reply. 

"Knock  again!"  called  Lesba. 

I  obeyed,  but  with  no  better  success. 
The  place  seemed  uncanny,  and  I  returned 
abruptly  to  the  carriage,  standing  beside 
the  wheel  and  gazing  up  through  the 
moonlight  into  the  beautiful  face  the  girl 
bent  over  me. 

"Lesba,"  said  I,  pleadingly,  "what  does 
all  this  mean?  Why  have  you  brought  me 
to  this  strange  place?" 

"To  save  your  life,"  she  answered  in  a 
grave  voice. 

"But  how  came  you  to  be  waiting  in  the 
[222] 


The  Wayside  Inn 

lane?  And  who  were  you  waiting  for?" 
I  persisted. 

"By  what  right  do  you  question  me, 
Senhor  Harcliffe?"  she  asked,  drawing 
back  so  that  I  could  no  longer  look  into  her 
eyes. 

"By  no  right  at  all,  Lesba.  Neither  do 
I  care  especially  whether  you  are  attached 
to  the  Empire  or  the  Republic,  or  how 
much  you  indulge  in  political  intrigue, 
since  that  appears  to  be  the  chief  amuse- 
ment of  your  countrymen.  But  I  love  you. 
You  know  it  well,  although  you  have  never 
permitted  me  tell  you  so.  And  loving  you 
as  I  do,  with  all  my  heart,  I  am  anxious  to 
untangle  this  bewildering  maze  and  under- 
stand something  of  your  actions  since  that 
terrible  morning  when  I  parted  with  you 
at  Dom  Miguel's  mansion." 

She  laughed,  and  the  laugh  was  one  of 
those  quaint  flashes  of  merriment  peculiar 
to  the  girl,  leaving  one  in  doubt  whether  to 
attribute  it  to  amusement  or  nervous  agita- 
tion. Indeed,  where  another  woman  might 
weep  Lesba  would  laugh;  so  that  it  fre- 
quently puzzled  me  to  comprehend  her. 
[223] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Now,  however,  she  surprised  me  by  leaning 
over  me  and  saying  gently : 

"I  will  answer  your  question,  Robert. 
My  brother  is  at  the  mansion,  and  in  danger 
of  his  life.  I  was  waiting  with  the  carriage 
to  assist  him  to  escape." 

"But  how  do  you  know  he  is  in  danger?" 

"He  sent  me  word  by  a  carrier-pigeon." 

"To  be  sure.  Yet  there  is  one  more 
thing  that  troubles  me:  why  were  you  in 
Rio,  riding  in  the  Emperor's  carriage  with 
the  spy  Valcour?" 

"It  is  simple,  senhor.  I  went  to  Rio  to 
assist  in  persuading  Dom  Pedro  to  visit 
the  vault." 

"Knowing  it  was  empty?" 

"Knowing  it  was  empty,  and  believing 
that  the  Emperor's  absence  would  enable 
Fonseca  to  strike  a  blow  for  freedom." 

"Then  Fonseca  is  still  faithful  to  the 
Cause?" 

"I  know  of  no  traitor  in  our  ranks, 
Robert,  although  it  seems  you  have  sus- 
pected nearly  all  of  us,  at  times.  But  it 
grows  late  and  my  brother  is  still  in  peril. 
Will  you  again  rap  upon  the  door?" 
[224] 


The  Wayside  Inn 

"It  is  useless,  Lesba." 

"Try  the  back  door;  they  may  hear  you 
from  there,"  she  suggested. 

'So  I  made  my  way,  stumbling  over 
tangled  vines  and  protruding  roots,  to  the 
rear  of  the  house,  where  the  shadows  lay 
even  thicker  than  in  front.  I  found  the 
door,  and  hammered  upon  it  with  all  my 
strength.  The  noise  might  have  raised 
the  dead,  but  as  I  listened  intently  there 
came  not  the  least  footfall  to  reward  me. 
For  a  time  I  hesitated  what  to  do.  From 
the  grim  forest  behind  me  I  heard  a  half- 
audible  snarl  and  the  bark  of  a  wolf;  in 
the  house  an  impressive  silence  reigned 
supreme. 

I  drew  back,  convinced  that  the  place 
was  uninhabited,  and  returned  around  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

"There  is  no  one  here,  donzella,"  I 
began,  but  stopped  short  in  amazement. 

The  carriage  was  gone. 


[225] 


CHAPTER  XX 


"ARISE  AND  STRIKE!" 

I  sprang  to  the  road  and  peered  eagerly 
in  every  direction.  Far  away  in  the  dis- 
tance could  be  discerned  the  dim  outlines  of 
the  carriage,  flying  along  the  way  from 
whence  we  had  come. 

Lesba  had  brought  me  to  this  place 
only  to  desert  me,  and  it  was  not  difficult 
to  realize  that  she  had  sent  me  to  the  rear 
of  the  house  to  get  me  out  of  the  way  while 
she  wheeled  the  carriage  around  and  dashed 
away  unheard  over  the  soft  moss. 

Well,  I  had  ceased  to  speculate  upon 
the  girl's  erratic  actions.  Only  one  thing 
seemed  clear  to  me;  that  she  had  returned 
to  rescue  her  brother  from  the  danger  which 
threatened  him.  Why  she  had  assisted  me 
to  escape  the  soldiery  only  to  leave  me  in 
this  wilderness  could  be  accounted  for  but 
by  the  suggestion  that  her  heart  softened 
toward  one  whom  she  knew  had  learned 

[226] 


' ' Arise  and  Strike ! ' '' 

to  love  her  during  those  bright  days  we  had 
passed  in  each  other's  society.  But  that 
she  loved  me  in  return  I  dared  not  even 
hope.  Her  answer  to  my  declaration  had 
been  a  laugh,  and  to  me  this  girl's  heart 
was  as  a  sealed  book.  Moreover,  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  Valcour  also  loved  her, 
and  into  his  eyes  I  had  seen  her  gaze  as  she 
never  had  gazed  into  mine  during  our  most 
friendly  intercourse. 

The  carriage  had  vanished  long  since, 
and  the  night  air  was  chill.  I  returned  to 
the  porch  of  the  deserted  house,  and  curling 
myself  up  on  one  of  the  benches  soon  sank 
into  a  profound  slumber,  for  the  events  of 
the  day  had  well-nigh  exhausted  rne. 

When  I  awoke  a  rough-looking,  bearded 
man  was  bending  over  me.  He  wore  a 
peasant's  dress  and  carried  a  gun  on  his 
left  arm. 

"Who  are  you,  senhor, "  he  demanded, 
as  my  eyes  unclosed,  "and  how  came  you 
here  ?" 

I  arose  and  stretched  myself,  considering 
who  he  might  be. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  said  I. 
[227] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"There  is  war  in  the  land,  senhor,"  he 
responded,  quietly,  "and  every  man  must 
be  a  friend  or  a  foe  to  the  Republic."  He 
doffed  his  hat  with  rude  devotion  at  the 
word,  and  added,  "Declare  yourself,  my 
friend." 

I  stared  at  him  thoughtfully.  War  in 
the  land,  said  he!  Then  the  "torch  of 
rebellion"  had  really  been  fired.  But  by 
whom?  Could  it  have  been  Paola,  as 
Valcour  had  claimed?  And  why?  Since 
the  conspiracy  had  been  unmasked  and  its 
leaders,  with  the  exception  of  Fonseca, 
either  scattered  or  imprisoned?  Did  the 
Minister  of  Police  aim  to  destroy  every  one 
connected  with  the  Cause  by  precipitating 
an  impotent  revolt?  Or  was  there  a  master- 
hand  directing  these  seemingly  incompre- 
hensible events? 

The  man  was  growing  suspicious  of  my 
silence. 

"Come!"  said  he,  abruptly;  "you  shall 
go  to  Senhor  B astro." 

"And  where  is  that?"  I  asked,  with 
interest,  for  Paola  had  reported  that  Bastro 
had  fled  the  country. 

[228] 


v<  Arise  and  Strike!'1 

My  captor  did  not  deign  to  reply.  With 
the  muzzle  of  his  gun  unpleasantly  close  to 
my  back  he  marched  me  toward  the  edge 
of  the  forest,  which  we  skirted  for  a  time 
in  silence.  Then  the  path  turned  suddenly 
into  a  dense  thicket,  winding  between  close- 
set  trees  until,  deep  within  the  wood,  we 
came  upon  a  natural  clearing  of  considerable 
extent. 

In  the  center  of  this  space  was  a  large, 
low  building  constructed  of  logs  and  roofed 
with  branches  of  trees,  and  surrounding  the 
entire  structure  were  grouped  native  Brazil- 
ians, armed  with  rifles,  revolvers,  and  knives. 

These  men  were  not  uniformed,  and  their 
appearance  was  anything  but  military; 
nevertheless  there  was  a  look  upon  their 
stern  faces  that  warned  me  they  were  in 
deadly  earnest  and  not  to  be  trifled  with. 

As  my  intercourse  with  the  republicans 
had  been  confined  entirely  to  a  few  of  their 
leaders,  I  found  no  familiar  face  among 
these  people ;  so  I  remained  impassive  while 
my  captor  pushed  me  past  the  guards  to  a 
small  doorway  placed  near  a  protecting 
angle  of  the  building. 

[229] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Enter!"  said  he. 

I  obeyed,  and  the  next  moment  stood 
before  a  group  of  men  who  were  evidently 
the  officers  or  leaders  of  the  little  band  of 
armed  patriots  I  had  seen  without. 

"Ah!"  said  one,  in  a  deep  bass  voice, 
"it  is  Senhor  Harcliffe,  the  secretary  to 
Dom  Miguel." 

I  have  before  mentioned  the  fact  that 
whenever  the  conspirators  had  visited  de 
Pintra  they  remained  securely  masked,  so 
that  their  features  were,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, unknown  to  me.  But  the  voices  were 
familiar  enough,  and  the  man  who  had 
brought  me  here  had  mentioned  Sanchez 
Bastro's  name;  so  I  had  little  difficulty  in 
guessing  the  identity  of  the  personage  who 
now  addressed  me. 

"Why  are  you  here,  senhor?"  he  in- 
quired, with  evident  anxiety;  "and  do 
you  bring  us  news  of  the  uprising?" 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  uprising  except 
that  your  man  here,"  and  I  turned  to  my 
guide,  "tells  me  there  is  war  in  the  land, 
and  that  the  Revolution  is  proclaimed." 

*  Yes,"  returned  Bastro,  with  a  grave  nod. 
[230] 


"Arise  and  Strike!'' 

"Then,"  I  continued,  "I  advise  you  to 
lay  down  you  arms  at  once  and  return  to 
your  homes  before  you  encounter  arrest 
and  imprisonment." 

The  leaders  cast  upon  one  another  uneasy 
looks,  and  Bastro  drew  a  small  paper  from 
his  breast  and  handed  it  to  me.  I  recog- 
nized it  as  one  of  the  leaves  from  his  note- 
book which  Paola  had  attached  to  the 
carrier-pigeon,  and  upon  it  were  scrawled 
these  words,  "Arise  and  strike!" 

It  was  the  signal  long  since  agreed  upon 
to  start  the  Revolution. 

With  a  laugh  I  handed  back  the  paper. 

"It  is  from  Francisco  Paola,  the  traitor," 
I  said. 

"Traitor!"  they  echoed,  in  an  astonished 
chorus. 

"Listen,  gentlemen;  it  is  evident  you 
are  ignorant  of  the  events  of  the  last  two 
days."  And  in  as  few  words  as  possible  I 
related  the  occurrences  at  de  Pintra's 
mansion,  laying  stress  upon  the  arrest  of 
Piexoto,  the  perfidy  of  the  Minister  of 
Police,  and  the  death  of  Treverot. 

They  were  not  so  deeply  impressed  as  I 
[231] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

had  expected.  The  discovery  of  the  empty 
vault  had  aroused  no  interest  whatever,  and 
they  listened  quietly  and  without  comment 
to  my  story  of  Paola's  betrayal  of  his  fellow- 
conspirators  to  the  Emperor. 

But  when  I  mentioned  Treverot's  death 
B  astro  chose  to  smile,  and  indicating  a  tall 
gentleman  standing  at  his  left,  he  said: 

"Permit  me  to  introduce  to  you  Senhor 
Treverot.  He  will  tell  you  that  he  still 
lives." 

"Then  Paola  lied?"  I  exclaimed,  some- 
what chagrined. 

Bastro  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  have  confidence  in  the  Minister 
of  Police,"  said  he,  calmly.  "There  is  no 
doubt  but  General  Fonseca,  at  Rio,  has 
before  now  gained  control  of  the  capital, 
and  that  the  Revolution  is  successfully 
established.  We  shall  know  everything  very 
soon,  for  my  men  have  gone  to  the  nearest 
telegraph  station  for  news.  Meantime,  to 
guard  against  any  emergency,  our  patriots 
are  being  armed  in  readiness  for  combat, 
and,  in  Matto  Grosso  at  least,  the  royalists 
are  powerless  to  oppose  us." 
[232] 


' ' Arise  and  Strike I" 

"  But  the  funds  —  the  records !  What 
will  happen  if  the  Emperor  seizes  them?" 
I  asked. 

"The  Emperor  will  not  seize  them," 
returned  B astro,  unmoved.  "The  con- 
tents of  the  vault  are  in  safe-keeping." 

Before  I  could  question  him  further  a 
man  sprang  through  the  doorway. 

"The  wires  from  Rio  are  cut  in  every 
direction,"  said  he,  in  an  agitated  voice. 
"A  band  of  the  Uruguayan  guards,  under 
de  Souza  and  Valcour,  is  galloping  over 
the  country  to  arrest  every  patriot  they  can 
find,  and  our  people  are  hiding  themselves 
in  terror." 

Consternation  spread  over  the  features 
of  the  little  band  which  a  moment  before 
had  deemed  itself  so  secure  and  powerful. 
B  astro  turned  to  pace  the  earthen  floor 
with  anxious  strides,  while  the  others 
watched  him  silently. 

"What  of  Francisco  Paola?"  suddenly 
asked  the  leader. 

"Why,  senhor,  he  seems  to  have  disap- 
peared," replied  the  scout,  with  hesitation. 

"  Disappeared !     And  why  ?  " 
[233] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Perhaps  I  can  answer  that  question, 
Senhor  B astro,"  said  a  voice  behind  us, 
and  turning  my  head  I  saw  my  friend 
Pedro,  the  station-master  at  Cuyaba,  stand- 
ing within  the  doorway. 

"Enter,  Pedro,"  commanded  the  leader. 
"What  news  do  you  bring,  and  why  have 
you  abandoned  your  post?" 

"The  wires  are  down,"  said  the  station- 
master,  "and  no  train  is  allowed  to  leave 
Rio  since  the  Emperor  reached  there  at 
midnight." 

"Then  you  know  nothing  of  what  has 
transpired  at  the  capital?"  asked  B astro. 

"Nothing,  senhor.  It  was  yesterday 
morning  when  the  Emperor's  party  met  the 
train  at  Cuyaba,  and  I  ^handed  him  a  tele- 
gram from  de  Lima,  the  Minister  of  State. 
It  read  in  this  way :  *  General  Fonseca  and 
his  army  have  revolted  and  seized  the 
palace,  the  citadel,  and  all  public  buildings. 
I  have  called  upon  every  loyal  Brazilian  to 
rally  to  the  support  of  the  Empire.  Return 
at  once.  Arrest  the  traitors  Francisco  Paola 
and  his  sister.  Situation  critical." 

"Ah!"  cried  Bastro,  drawing  a  deep 
[234] 


"Arise  and  Strike!" 

breath,  "and  what  said  the  Emperor  to 
that  message?" 

"He  spoke  with  his  counselors,  and 
wired  this  brief  reply  to  de  Lima,  *I  am 
coming.'  Also  he  sent  a  soldier  back  to 
de  Pintra's  mansion  with  orders  to  arrest 
Francisco  and  Lesba  Paola.  Then  he 
boarded  the  train  and  instructed  the  con- 
ductor to  proceed  to  Rio  with  all  possible 
haste.  And  that  is  all  I  know,  senhor, 
save  that  I  called  up  Rio  last  evening  and 
learned  that  Fonseca  was  still  in  control  of 
the  city.  At  midnight  the  wires  were  cut 
and  nothing  further  can  be  learned.  There- 
fore I  came  to  join  you,  and  if  there  is  a 
chance  to  fight  for  the  Cause  I  beg  that 
you  will  accept  my  services." 

B astro  paused  in  his  walk  to  press  the 
honest  fellow's  hand;  then  he  resumed  his 
thoughtful  pacing. 

The  others  whispered  among  themselves, 
and  one  said: 

"Why  need  we  despair,  Sanchez  Bastro? 
Will  not  Fonseca,  once  in  control,  succeed 
in  holding  the  city?" 

"Surely!"  exclaimed  the  leader.  "It 
[235] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

is  not  for  him  that  I  fear,  but  for  ourselves. 
If  the  Uruguayans  are  on  our  trail  we  must 
disperse  our  men  and  scatter  over  the 
country,  for  the  spy  Valcour  knows,  I  am 
sure,  of  this  rendezvous." 

"But  they  are  not  hunting  you,  senhor," 
protested  Pedro,  "but  rather  Paola  and  his 
sister,  who  have  managed  to  escape  from 
de  Pintra's  house." 

"Nevertheless,  the  Uruguayans  are  liable 
to  be  here  at  any  moment,"  returned 
B astro,  "and  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  facing  that  devil,  de  Souza." 

He  then  called  his  men  together  in  the 
clearing,  explained  to  them  the  situation, 
and  ordered  them  to  scatter  and  to  secrete 
themselves  in  the  edges  of  the  forests  and 
pick  off  the  Uruguayans  with  their  rifles 
whenever  occasion  offered. 

"If  anything  of  importance  transpires," 
he  added,  "report  to  me  at  once  at  my 
house." 

Without  a  word  of  protest  his  commands 
were  obeyed.     The  leaders  mounted  their 
horses  and  rode  away  through  the  numerous 
forest  paths  that  led  into  the  clearing. 
[236] 


" Arise  and  Strike!'' 

The  men  also  saluted  and  disappeared 
among  the  trees,  and  presently  only  Bastro, 
Pedro,  and  myself  stood  in  the  open  space. 
"Come  with  me,  Senhor  Harcliffe,"  said 
the  leader;  "I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you 
join  me  at  breakfast.  You  may  follow  us, 
Pedro." 

Then  he  strode  to  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing, pressed  aside  some  bushes,  and  stepped 
into  a  secret  path  that  led  through  the 
densest  portion  of  the  tangled  forest.  I 
followed,  and  Pedro  brought  up  the  rear. 

For  some  twenty  minutes  Bastro  guided 
us  along  the  path,  which  might  well  have 
been  impassable  to  a  novice,  until  finally 
we  emerged  from  the  forest  to  find  the  open 
country  before  us,  and  a  small,  cozy-look- 
ing dwelling  facing  us  from  the  opposite 
side  of  a  well-defined  roadway. 

Bastro  led  us  to  a  side  door,  which  he 
threw  open,  and  then  stepped  back  with  a 
courteous  gesture. 

"Enter,  gentlemen,"  said  he;  "you  are 
welcome  to  my  humble  home." 

I  crossed  the  threshold  and  came  to  an 
abrupt  stop.  Something  seemed  to  clutch 
[237] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

my  heart  with  a  grip  of  iron;  my  limbs 
trembled  involuntarily,  and  my  eyes  grew 
set  and  staring. 

For,  standing  before  me,  with  composed 
look  and  a  smile  upon  his  dark  face,  was 
the  living  form  of  my  lamented  friend 
Miguel  de  Pintra ! 


[238] 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ONE  MYSTERY  SOLVED 

"Compose  yourself,  my  dear  Robert," 
said  Dom  Miguel,  pressing  my  hands  in 
both  his  own.  "  It  is  no  ghost  you  see,  for  — 
thanks  be  to  God !  —  I  am  still  alive." 

I  had  no  words  to  answer  him.  In  all 
my  speculations  as  to  the  result  of  Madam 
Izabel's  terrible  deed,  the  fate  of  the  records 
and  the  mysterious  opening  of  the  vault 
without  its  key,  I  never  had  conceived  the 
idea  that  Dom  Miguel  might  have  escaped 
his  doom.  And  to  find  him  here,  not  only 
alive,  but  apparently  in  good  health  and 
still  busy  with  the  affairs  of  the  Revolution, 
conveyed  so  vivid  a  shock  to  my  nerves  that 
I  could  but  dumbly  stare  into  my  old  friend's 
kind  eyes  and  try  to  imagine  that  I  beheld 
a  reality  and  not  the  vision  of  a  disordered 
brain. 

B astro  assisted  me  by  laughing  loudly  and 
giving  me  a  hearty  slap  across  the  shoulders. 
[239] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"Wake  up,  Senhor  Harcliffe!"  said  he; 
"and  hereafter  have  more  faith  in  Prov- 
idence and  the  luck  that  follows  in  the 
wake  of  true  patriotism.  We  could  ill 
afford  to  lose  our  chief  at  this  juncture." 

"But  how  did  it  happen?"  I  gasped, 
still  filled  with  wonder.  "What  earthly 
power  could  have  opened  that  awful  vault 
when  its  key  was  miles  and  miles  away?" 

"The  earthly  power  was  wielded  by  a 
very  ordinary  little  woman,"  said  Dom 
Miguel,  with  his  old  gentle  smile.  "When 
you  rode  away  from  the  house  on  that  ter- 
rible morning  Lesba  came  and  unlocked  my 
prison,  setting  me  free." 

"But  how?"  I  demanded,  still  blindly 
groping  for  the  truth. 

"By  means  of  a  duplicate  key  that  she 
had  constantly  carried  in  her  bosom." 

I  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Did  you  know  of  this  key,  sir?"  I 
asked,  after  a  pause,  which  my  companions 
courteously  forbore  to  interrupt. 

"I  did  not  even  suspect  its  existence," 
replied  Dom  Miguel.  "But  it  seems  that 
Francisco  Paola,  with  his  usual  thought- 
[240] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

fulness,  took  an  impression  in  wax  of  my 
ring,  without  my  knowledge,  and  had  an 
exact  duplicate  prepared.  I  think  he  fore- 
saw that  an  emergency  might  arise  when 
another  key  might  be  required;  but  it 
would  not  do  to  let  any  one  know  of  his 
action,  for  the  mere  knowledge  that  such  a 
duplicate  existed  would  render  us  all  sus- 
picious and  uneasy.  So  he  kept  the  matter 
secret  even  from  me,  and  gave  the  ring  into 
the  keeping  of  his  sister,  who  was  his  only 
confidante,  and  whom  he  had  requested  me 
to  accept  as  an  inmate  of  my  household, 
under  the  plea  that  I  am  her  legal  guardian. 
This  was  done  in  order  to  have  her  always 
at  hand  in  case  the  interests  of  the  con- 
spiracy demanded  immediate  use  of  the 
duplicate  key.  That  Francisco  trusted  her 
more  fully  than  he  has  any  other  living 
person  is  obvious;  and  that  she  was  worthy 
of  such  trust  the  girl  has  fully  proved." 

"Then  you  were  released  at  once?'*  I 
asked;  "and  you  suffered  little  from  your 
confinement?" 

"My  anguish  was  more  mental  than  of 
a  bodily  nature,"  Dom  Miguel  answered, 
[241] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

sadly;  "but  I  was  free  to  meet  Paola  when 
he  arrived  at  my  house,  and  to  assist  him 
and  Lesba  in  removing  the  contents  of  the 
vault  to  a  safer  place." 

"But  why,  knowing  that  his  sister  held 
a  duplicate  key,  did  the  Minister  send  me 
in  chase  of  the  ring  Madam  Izabel  had 
stolen?"  I  demanded. 

"Because  it  was  necessary  to  keep 
the  matter  from  the  Emperor  until  the 
records  had  been  removed,"  explained  de 
Pintra.  "Indeed,  Francisco  was  on  his 
way  to  us  that  morning  to  insist  upon  our 
abandoning  the  vault,  after  having  given 
us  warning,  as  you  will  remember,  the  night 
before,  that  the  clever  hiding-place  of  our 
treasure  and  papers  was  no  longer  a  secret." 

"I  remember  that  he  himself  revealed 
the  secret  to  the  Emperor,"  I  remarked, 
dryly. 

"And  acted  wisely  in  doing  so,  I  have 
no  doubt,"  retorted  Bastro,  who  still  stood 
beside  us.  "But  come,  gentlemen,  break- 
fast must  be  ready,  and  I  have  a  vigorous 
appetite.  Be  good  enough  to  join  me." 

He  led  the  way  to  an  inner  room,  and 
[242] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

de  Pintra  and  I  followed,  his  arm  in 
mine. 

It  seemed  to  me,  now  that  I  regarded 
him  more  attentively,  that  my  old  friend 
was  less  erect  than  formerly,  that  there  were 
new  and  deep  furrows  upon  his  gentle  face, 
and  that  his  eyes  had  grown  dim  and 
sunken.  But  that  the  old,  dauntless  spirit 
remained  I  never  doubted. 

As  we  entered  the  breakfast-room  I  saw 
a  form  standing  at  the  window  —  the  form 
of  a  little  man  clothed  neatly  in  black.  He 
turned  to  greet  us  with  pale,  expressionless 
features  and  drooping  eyelids. 

It  was  Captain  Mazanovitch. 

"Good  morning,  Senhor  Harcliffe,"  he 
said,  in  his  soft  voice;  and  I  wondered  how 
he  had  recognized  me  without  seeming  to 
open  his  eyes.  "And  what  news  does  our 
noble  Captain  Bastro  bring  of  the  Revolu- 
tion?" he  continued,  with  a  slight  note  of 
interest  in  his  voice  that  betrayed  his 
eagerness. 

While  we  breakfasted  Bastro  related  the 
events  of  the  morning,  and  told  how  the 
news  he  had  received  of  the  activity  of  the 
[243] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Uruguayan  guards,  in  connection  with  the 
impossibility  of  learning  from  Rio  what 
Fonseca  had  accomplished,  had  induced 
him  to  disband  his  men. 

"  But  can  you  again  assemble  them,  if  you 
should  wish  to?"  inquired  Dom  Miguel. 

"Easily,"  answered  our  host;  but  he 
did  not  explain  how. 

While  he  and  Dom  Miguel  discussed  the 
fortunes  of  the  Revolution  I  made  bold  to 
ask  Captain  Mazanovitch  how  he  came  to 
be  in  this  isolated  spot. 

"  I  was  warned  by  the  Minister  of  Police 
to  leave  Rio,"  answered  the  detective;  "for 
it  appears  my  —  my  friend  Valcour  would 
have  been  suspicious  had  not  Paola  prom- 
ised to  arrest  me  with  the  others.  I  have 
been  here  since  yesterday." 

'Your  friend  Valcour  is  a  most  per- 
sistent foe  to  the  Cause,"  said  I,  thought- 
fully. "It  would  have  pleased  you  to 
watch  him  struggle  with  Paola  for  the 
mastery,  while  the  Emperor  was  by.  Ah, 
how  Paola  and  Valcour  hate  each  other!" 

Mazanovitch  turned  his  passionless  face 
toward  me,  and  it  seemed  as  though  a  faint 
[244] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

smile  flickered  for  an  instant  around  his 
mouth.     But  he  made  no  answer. 

After  breakfast  Pedro  was  sent  back  to 
Cuyaba  for  news,  being  instructed  to  await 
there  the  repairing  of  the  telegraph  wires, 
and  to  communicate  with  us  as  soon  as  he 
had  word  from  Rio. 

The  man  had  no  sooner  disappeared  in 
the  forest  than,  as  we  stood  in  the  roadway 
looking  after  him,  a  far-off  patter  of  horses' 
feet  was  distinctly  heard  approaching  from 
the  north. 

Silently  we  stood,  gazing  toward  the 
curve  in  the  road  while  the  hoof -beats  grew 
louder  and  louder,  till  suddenly  two  horses 
swept  around  the  edge  of  the  forest  and  bore 
down  upon  us. 

Then  to  the  surprise  of  all  we  recognized 
the  riders  to  be  Francisco  Paola  and  his 
sister  Lesba,  and  they  rode  the  same  horses 
which  the  evening  before  had  been  attached 
to  the  carriage  that  had  brought  me  from 
de  Pintra's. 

As   they   dashed   up   both   brother   and 
sister  sprang  from  the  panting  animals,  and 
the  former  said,  hurriedly: 
[245] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  Quick,  comrades !  Into  the  house  and 
barricade  the  doors.  The  Uruguayans  are 
upon  us!" 

True  enough;  now  that  their  own  horses 
had  come  to  a  halt  we  plainly  heard  the 
galloping  of  the  troop  of  pursuers.  With 
a  single  impulse  we  ran  to  the  house  and 
entered,  when  my  first  task  was  to  assist 
Bastro  in  placing  the  shutters  over  the 
windows  and  securing  them  with  stout 
bars. 

The  doors  were  likewise  fastened  and 
barred,  and  then  Mazanovitch  brought  us 
an  armful  of  rifles  and  an  ample  supply  of 
ammunition. 

"Do  you  think  it  wise  to  resist?"  asked 
de  Pintra,  filling  with  cartridges  the  mag- 
azine of  a  rifle. 

A  blow  upon  the  door  prevented  an 
answer. 

"Open,  in  the  name  of  the  Emperor!" 
cried  an  imperious  voice. 

"That  is  my  gallant  friend  Captain  de 
Souza,"  said  Lesba,  with  a  little  laugh. 

I  looked  at  the  strange  girl  curiously. 
She  had  seated  herself  upon  a  large  chest, 
[246] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

and  with  her  hands  clasped  about  one  knee 
was  watching  us  load  our  weapons  with  as 
much  calmness  as  if  no  crisis  of  our  fate 
was  impending. 

"Be  kind  to  him,  Lesba,"  remarked 
Paola,  tucking  a  revolver  underneath  his 
arm  while  he  rolled  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 
"Think  of  his  grief  at  being  separated  from 
you." 

She  laughed  again,  with  real  enjoyment, 
and  shook  the  tangled  locks  of  hair  from 
her  eyes. 

"Perhaps  if  I  accept  his  attentions  he 
will  marry  me,  and  I  shall  escape,"  she 
rejoined,  lightly. 

"Open,  I  command  you!"  came  the 
voice  from  without. 

"Really,"  said  Lesba,  looking  upon  us 
brightly,  "it  was  too  funny  for  anything. 
Twice  this  morning  the  brave  captain  nearly 
succeeded  in  capturing  me.  He  might 
have  shot  me  with  ease,  but  called  out  that 
he  could  not  bear  to  injure  the  woman  he 
loved!" 

"Does    he    indeed    love    you,    Lesba?" 
asked  de  Pintra,  gently. 
[247] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  So  he  says,  Uncle.  But  it  must  have 
been  a  sudden  inspiration,  for  I  never  saw 
him  until  yesterday." 

"Nevertheless,  I  am  glad  to  learn  of 
this,"  resumed  Dom  Miguel;  "for  there 
is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  they  out- 
number us  and  are  better  armed,  and  it  is 
good  to  know  that  whatever  happens  to  us, 
you  will  be  protected." 

"Whatever  happens  to  you  will  happen 
to  me,"  declared  the  girl,  springing  to  her 
feet.  "Give  me  a  gun,  Uncle!" 

Now  came  another  summons  from  de 
Souza. 

"Listen!"  he  called;  "the  house  is 
surrounded  and  you  cannot  escape  us. 
Therefore  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  sur- 
render and  rely  upon  the  Emperor's  mercy." 

"I  fear  we  may  not  rely  on  that  with  any 
security,"  drawled  Paola,  who  had  ap- 
proached the  door.  "  Pray  tell  us,  my  good 
de  Souza,  what  are  your  orders  respecting 
us?" 

"To  arrest  you  at  all  hazards,"  returned 
the  captain,  sternly. 

"And  then?"  persisted  the  Minister, 
[248] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

leaning  against  the  door  and  leisurely  puffing 
his  cigarette. 

But  another  voice  was  now  heard  — 
Valcour's  —  crying: 

"Open  at  once,  or  we  will  batter  down 
the  door." 

Before  any  could  reply  Mazanovitch 
pushed  Paola  aside  and  placed  his  lips  to 
the  keyhole. 

"Hear  me,  Valcour,"  he  said,  in  a  soft 
yet  penetrating  tone,  "we  are  able  to 
defend  ourselves  until  assistance  arrives. 
But  rather  than  that  blood  should  be  shed 
without  necessity,  we  will  surrender  our- 
selves if  we  have  your  assurance  of  safe 
convoy  to  Rio." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then, 
"How  came  you  here?"  demanded  the 
spy,  in  accents  that  betrayed  his  agitation. 

"That  matters  little,"  returned  Mazano- 
vitch. "  Have  we  your  assurance  of  safety? ' 

We  heard  the  voices  of  Valcour  and  de 
Souza  in  angry  dispute;  then  the  captain 
shouted:  "Stand  aside!"  and  there  came  a 
furious  blow  upon  the  door  that  shattered 
the  panels. 

[249] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Bastro  raised  his  rifle  and  fired.  A  cry 
answered  the  shot,  but  instantly  a  second 
crash  followed.  The  bars  were  torn  from 
their  sockets,  the  splintered  door  fell  in- 
ward, and  before  we  could  recover  from  the 
surprise  we  were  looking  into  the  muzzles  of 
a  score  of  carbines  leveled  upon  us. 

"Very  well,"  said  Paola,  tossing  the 
end  of  his  cigarette  through  the  open  door- 
way. "We  are  prisoners  of  war.  Peste! 
my  dear  Captain;  how  energetic  your 
soldiers  are! 

A  moment  later  we  were  disarmed,  and 
then,  to  our  surprise,  de  Souza  ordered  our 
feet  and  our  hands  to  be  securely  bound. 
Only  Lesba  escaped  this  indignity,  for  the 
captain  confined  her  in  a  small  room  adjoin- 
ing our  own  and  placed  a  guard  at  the  door. 

During  this  time  Valcour  stood  by,  sullen 
and  scowling,  his  hands  clinched  nervously 
and  his  lips  curling  with  scorn. 

'You  might  gag  us,  my  cautious  one,'* 
said  Paola,  addressing  the  officer,  who  had 
planted  himself,  stern  and  silent,  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  room  while  his  orders  were  being 
executed. 

[250] 


One  Mystery  Solved 

"So  I  will,  Senhor  Paola;  but  in  another 
fashion,"  was  the  grim  reply. 

He  drew  a  paper  from  his  breast  and  con- 
tinued, "I  will  read  to  you  my  orders  from 
his  Majesty,  the  Emperor  Dom  Pedro  of 
Brazil,  dispatched  from  the  station  at  Cuy- 
aba  as  he  was  departing  for  his  capital  to 
quell  the  insurrection." 

He  paused  and  slowly  unfolded  the  paper, 
while  every  eye — save  that,  perhaps,  of 
Mazanovitch — was  fixed  upon  him  with 
intent  gaze. 

"  'You  are  instructed  to  promptly  arrest 
the  traitor  Francisco  Paola,  together  with 
his  sister,  Lesba  Paola,  and  whatever  revo- 
lutionists you  may  be  able  to  take,  and  to 
execute  them  one  and  all  without  formal 
trial  on  the  same  day  that  they  are  captured, 
as  enemies  of  the  Empire  and  treasonable 
conspirators  plotting  the  downfall  of  the 
Government.'  ' 

The  captain  paused  a  moment,  impres- 
sively, and  refolded  the  document. 

"It  is  signed  by  his  Majesty's  own  hand, 
and  sealed  with  the  royal  seal,"  he  said. 

[251] 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  DEATH  SENTENCE 

I  glanced  around  the  room  to  note  the 
effect  of  this  startling  announcement  upon 
my  fellow-prisoners.  Bastro's  scowling  face 
was  turned  full  upon  the  officer,  but  showed 
no  sign  of  fear.  De  Pintra  smiled  rather 
scornfully  and  whispered  a  word  to  Mazan- 
ovitch,  whose  countenance  remained  im- 
passive as  ever.  Paola,  with  the  perpetual 
simper  distorting  his  naturally  handsome 
features,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  re- 
garded his  trussed  ankles  with  whimsical 
indifference.  Indeed,  if  the  captain  thought 
to  startle  or  terrify  his  captives  he  must  have 
been  grievously  disappointed,  for  one  and 
all  received  the  announcement  of  the  death 
sentence  with  admirable  composure. 

It  was  Valcour  who  broke  the  silence. 
Confronting  the  captain  with  blazing  eyes, 
while  his  slight  form  quivered  with  excite- 
ment, he  cried: 

[252] 


The  Death  Sentence 

"This  is  nonsense,  de  Souza!  The  Em- 
peror must  have  been  mad  to  write  such  an 
order.  You  will  convey  your  prisoners  to 
Rio  for  trial." 

"I  shall  obey  the  Emperor's  commands," 
answered  the  captain,  gloomily. 

"But  it  is  murder!" 

"It  is  the  Emperor's  will." 

"Hear  me,  Captain  de  Souza,"  said  Val- 
cour,  drawing  himself  up  proudly;  "you 
were  instructed  to  obey  my  commands.  I 
order  you  to  convey  the  prisoners  to  Rio, 
that  they  may  be  tried  in  a  court  of 
justice." 

The  other  shook  his  head. 

"The  order  is  to  me  personally,  and  I 
must  obey.  A  soldier  never  questions  the 
commands  of  his  superiors."  / 

"But  I  am  your  superior!" 

"  Not  in  this  affair,  Senhor  Valcour.  And 
the  Emperor's  order  is  doubtless  to  be 
obeyed  above  that  of  his  spy." 

Valcour  winced,  and  turned  away  to  pace 
the  floor  nervously. 

"But  the  lady — surely  you  will  not  exe- 
cute the  Donzella  Paola  in  this  brutal  fash- 
[253] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

ion!"    he    protested,    after   an   interval    of 
silence. 

The  captain  flushed,  and  then  grew  pale. 

"I  will  speak  with  the  lady,"  he  said, 
and  motioning  aside  the  guard  he  entered 
the  room  where  Lesba  was  confined,  and 
closed  the  door  after  him. 

We  could  hear  his  voice  through  the  thin 
partition,  speaking  in  low  and  earnest  tones. 
Then  a  burst  of  merry  laughter  from  Lesba 
fell  upon  our  ears  with  something  of  a  shock, 
for  the  matter  seemed  serious  enough  to 
insure  gravity.  Evidently  the  captain  pro- 
tested, but  the  girl's  high-pitched  tones  and 
peals  of  merriment  indicated  that  she  was 
amusing  herself  at  his  expense,  and  suddenly 
the  door  burst  open  and  de  Souza  stumbled 
out  with  a  red  and  angry  face. 

"The  woman  is  a  fiend!"  he  snarled. 
"Let  her  die  with  the  others." 

Valcour,  who  had  continued  to  pace  the 
floor  during  this  interview,  had  by  now 
managed  to  get  his  nerves  under  control,  for 
he  smiled  at  the  captain,  and  said : 

"  Let  us  see  if  I  have  any  argument  that 
will  avail." 

[254] 


The  Death  Sentence 

While  the  officer  stood  irresolute,  Val- 
cour  bowed  mockingly,  opened  the  door,  and 
passed  into  Lesba's  room. 

It  was  de  Souza's  turn  now  to  pace  the 
floor,  which  he  did  with  slow  and  measured 
strides;  but  although  we  strained  our  ears, 
not  a  sound  of  the  interview  that  was  pro- 
gressing reached  us  through  the  partition. 

After  a  considerable  time  it  seemed  that 
the  captain  regretted  having  allowed  Val- 
cour  this  privilege,  for  he  advanced  to  the 
door  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  knob.  In- 
stantly the  spy  appeared,  closing  the  door 
swiftly  behind  him  and  turning  the  key  in 
the  lock. 

"I  withdraw  my  opposition,  Captain," 
said  he.  :'You  may  execute  the  lady  with 
the  others,  for  all  I  care.  When  is  the 
massacre  to  take  place?" 

The  officer  stroked  his  moustache  and 
frowned. 

"The  order  commands  the  execution  on 
the  same  day  the  conspirators  are  arrested," 
he  announced.  "  I  do  not  like  the  job,  Val- 
cour,  believe  me ;  but  the  Emperor  must  be 
obeyed.  Let  them  die  at  sunset." 
[255] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

He  turned  abruptly  and  left  the  house, 
but  sent  a  detachment  of  the  Uruguayans 
to  remain  in  the  room  with  us  and  guard 
against  any  attempt  on  our  part  to  es- 
cape. 

We  indulged  in  little  conversation.  Each 
had  sufficient  to  occupy  his  thoughts,  and 
sunset  was  not  very  far  away,  after  all. 
To  me  this  ending  of  the  bold  conspiracy 
was  not  surprising,  for  I  had  often  thought 
that  when  Dom  Pedro  chose  to  strike  he 
would  strike  in  a  way  that  would  deter  all 
plotting  against  the  government  for  some 
time  to  come.  And  life  is  of  little  value  in 
these  South  American  countries. 

"Where  are  the  records?"  I  whispered 
to  Dom  Miguel,  who  sat  near  me. 

"  Safe  with  Fonseca  in  Rio,"  he  answered. 

"Do  you  imagine  that  Fonseca  will  suc- 
ceed?" I  continued. 

"He  is  sure  to,"  said  the  chief,  a  soft 
gleam  lighting  his  eyes.  "  It  is  only  we  who 
have  failed,  my  friend."  He  paused  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  resumed:  "I  am  sorry  I 
have  brought  you  to  this,  Robert.  For  the 
rest  of  us  it  matters  little  that  we  die.  Is  not 
[256] 


The  Death  Sentence 

a  free  Brazil  a  glorious  prize  to  be  won  by 
the  purchase  of  a  few  lives?" 

It  was  futile  to  answer.  A  free  Brazil 
meant  little  to  me,  I  reflected;  but  to  die 
with  Lesba  was  a  bit  comforting,  after  all. 
I  must  steel  myself  to  meet  death  as  bravely 
as  this  girl  was  sure  to  do. 

Paola,  after  sitting  long  silent,  addressed 
Valcour,  who,  since  the  captain's  exit,  had 
been  staring  from  the  window  that  faced  the 
forest. 

"What  did  de  Souza  say  to  Lesba?"  he 
asked. 

The  spy  turned  around  with  a  counte- 
nance more  composed  and  cheerful  than  he 
had  before  shown,  and  answered: 

"  He  offered  to  save  her  from  death  if  she 
would  marry  him. 

"Ah;  and  she  laughed  at  the  dear  cap- 
tain, as  we  all  heard.  But  you,  senhor, 
made  an  effort  to  induce  her  to  change  her 
mind — did  you  not?" 

"I?"  returned  Valcour.  "By  no  means, 
senhor.  It  is  better  she  should  die  than 
marry  this  brutal  Captain  de  Souza." 

This  speech  seemed  to  confirm  my  sus- 
[257] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

picion  that  Valcour  himself  loved  Lesba. 
But  Paola  cast  one  of  his  quick,  searching 
glances  into  the  spy's  face  and  seemed 
pleased  by  what  he  discovered  there. 

"  May  I  speak  with  my  sister?"  he  asked, 
a  moment  later. 

"Impossible,  senhor.  She  must  remain 
in  solitary  confinement  until  the  hour  of 
execution,  for  the  captain's  gallantry  will 
not  permit  him  to  bind  her." 

Then,  approaching  de  Pintra,  Valcour 
stood  a  moment  looking  down  at  him  and 
said: 

"Sir,  you  have  made  a  noble  fight  for  a 
cause  that  has  doubtless  been  very  dear  to 
you.  And  you  have  lost.  In  these  last 
hours  that  you  are  permitted  to  live  will  you 
not  make  a  confession  to  your  Emperor,  and 
give  him  the  details  of  that  conspiracy  in 
which  you  were  engaged?" 

"In  Rio,"  answered  Dom  Miguel,  quiet- 
ly, "there  is  now  no  Emperor.  The  Re- 
public is  proclaimed.  Even  at  this  moment 
the  people  of  our  country  are  acclaiming  the 
United  States  of  Brazil.  Senhor,  your  power 
is  ended.  You  may,  indeed,  by  your  mas- 
[258] 


The  Death  Sentence 

ter's  orders,  murder  us  in  this  far-away  pro- 
vince before  assistance  can  reach  us.  But 
our  friends  will  exact  a  terrible  vengeance 
for  the  deed,  be  assured." 

Valcour  did  not  answer  at  once.  He 
stood  for  a  time  with  knitted  brows,  thought- 
fully regarding  the  white-haired  chieftain 
of  the  Republic,  whose  brave  utterances 
seemed  to  us  all  to  be  fraught  with  prophetic 
insight. 

"If  your  lives  were  in  my  hands,"  said 
the  spy,  with  a  gesture  of  weariness,  "you 
would  be  tried  in  a  court  of  justice.  I  am  no 
murderer,  senhor,  and  I  sincerely  grieve  that 
deSouza  should  consider  his  orders  positive." 

He  turned  abruptly  to  Mazanovitch,  and 
throwing  an  arm  around  the  little  man's 
shoulders  bent  swiftly  down  and  pressed  a 
kiss  upon  the  pallid  forehead.  Then,  with 
unsteady  gait  he  walked  from  the  room,  and 
at  last  I  saw  the  eyes  of  Mazanovitch  open 
wide,  a  gaze  of  ineffable  tenderness  following 
the  retreating  form,  until  Valcour  had  dis- 
appeared. Paola  also  was  staring,  and  the 
disgusting  simper  had  left  his  face,  for  a 
time,  at  least. 

[259] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Silence  now  fell  upon  the  room.  B astro, 
in  his  corner,  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  Dom 
Miguel  seemed  lost  in  thought.  From  the 
chamber  in  which  Lesba  was  confined  came 
no  sound  to  denote  whether  the  girl  grieved 
over  her  approaching  fate  or  bore  it  with 
the  grim  stoicism  of  her  doomed  comrades. 

The  guard  paced  up  and  down  before  the 
closed  door,  pausing  at  times  to  mutter  a 
word  to  his  fellows,  who  stood  watchfully 
over  us.  From  my  station  on  the  chest  I 
could  gaze  into  the  yard  and  note  the  shadow 
of  the  house  creeping  further  and  further 
out  into  the  sunshine,  bringing  ever  nearer 
the  hour  when  the  bright  orb  would  sink 
into  the  far-away  plateau  and  our  eyes  would 
be  closed  forever  in  death. 

Yet  the  time  dragged  wearily,  it  seemed 
to  me.  When  one  is  condemned  to  die  it 
is  better  to  suffer  quickly,  and  have  done 
with  it.  To  wait,  to  count  the  moments,  is 
horrible.  One  needs  to  have  nerves  of  iron 
to  endure  that. 

Nevertheless,  we  endured  it.  The  hours 
passed,  somehow,  and  the  shadows  grew  dim 
with  stretching. 

[260] 


The  Death  Sentence 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  clank  of  spurs  as  de 
Souza  approached.  He  gave  a  brief  order 
to  the  Uruguayans  who  were  lounging  in  the 
yard,  and  then  stepped  through  the  doorway 
and  faced  us. 

"Get  ready,  senhors,"  said  he.  "The 
hour  has  come." 


[261] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR 

We  aroused  ourselves,  at  this,  and  re- 
garded the  captain  attentively. 

He  turned  his  stern  gaze  upon  one  after 
the  other,  and  gave  a  growl  of  satisfaction 
as  he  noted  no  craven  amongst  us. 

:'You  shall  draw  cuts,  gentlemen,  to  de- 
cide the  order  in  which  you  must  expiate 
your  crime.  I  will  show  no  partiality.  See, 
here  are  the  slips,  a  number  written  upon 
each.  Julio  shall  place  them  in  his  hat  and 
allow  you  to  draw." 

He  handed  the  bits  of  paper  to  one  of  his 
men  and  strode  to  the  door  of  Lesba's  room. 

"Open!"  he  commanded,  giving  it  a  rap 
with  his  knuckles. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"Open!"  said  he,  again,  and  placed  his 
ear  to  the  panel. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  gesture,  he  swung 
the  door  inward. 

[262] 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour 

A  moment  the  officer  stood  motionless, 
gazing  into  the  chamber.  Then  he  turned 
to  us  a  face  convulsed  with  anger. 

"Who  permitted  the  woman  to  escape?" 
he  demanded. 

The  guards,  startled  and  amazed,  peered 
over  his  shoulders  into  the  vacant  room ;  but 
none  dared  to  answer. 

"What  now,  Captain,  has  your  bird 
flown?"  came  Valcour's  soft  voice,  and  the 
spy  entered  the  room  and  threw  himself 
carelessly  into  a  chair. 

De  Souza  looked  upon  his  colleague  with 
evident  suspicion,  and  twisted  the  ends  of 
his  moustache  in  sullen  fury.  Perhaps  he 
dared  not  accuse  Valcour  openly,  as  the 
latter  was  the  Emperor's  authorized  repre- 
sentative. And  it  may  be  the  captain  was 
not  sincerely  sorry  that  Lesba  had  escaped, 
and  so  saved  him  from  the  necessity  of  exe- 
cuting her,  for,  after  a  period  of  indecis- 
ion, the  wrath  of  the  officer  seemed  to  cool, 
and  he  slowly  regained  his  composure.  Val- 
cour, who  was  watching  him,  appeared  to 
notice  this,  and  said: 

"You  forgot  the  window,  my  Captain. 
[263] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

It  was  not  difficult  for  the  senhorita  to  steal 
across  the  roadway  unobserved  and  take 
refuge  in  the  forest.  For  my  part,  I  am 
glad  she  is  gone.  Our  royal  master  has 
little  credit  in  condemning  a  woman  to  such 
a  death." 

"Have  a  care,  senhor!  Your  words  are 
treasonable." 

"The  Emperor  will  be  the  first  to  ap- 
plaud them,  when  he  has  time  to  think.  In- 
deed, de  Souza,  were  I  in  your  place,  I  should 
ignore  the  order  to  execute  these  people. 
His  Majesty  acted  under  a  severe  nervous 
strain,  and  he  will  not  thank  you,  believe  me, 
for  carrying  out  his  instructions  so  literally." 

"A  soldier's  duty  is  to  obey,"  returned 
the  officer,  stiffly.  Then,  turning  to  the  tall 
Uruguayan  who  held  the  hat,  he  added: 

"Let  the  prisoners  draw,  Julio!" 

Another  soldier  now  unfastened  our 
bonds,  and  Paola,  who  was  the  first  to  be 
approached  by  Julio,  took  a  slip  of  paper 
from  the  hat  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket 
without  examination. 

Sanchez  B  astro  drew  next,  and  smiled 
as  he  read  his  number.  Then  came  my 
[264] 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour 

turn,  and  I  own  that  I  could  not  repress  a 
slight  trembling  of  my  fingers  as  I  drew 
forth  the  fatal  slip.  It  was  number  four. 

"Good!"  murmured  de  Pintra,  reading 
the  slip  over  my  shoulder.  "I  shall  not  be 
alive  to  witness  your  death,  Robert."  And 
then  he  took  the  last  paper  from  the  hat 
and  added:  "I  am  number  two." 

"I  am  first,"  said  Bastro,  with  cheerful- 
ness. "It  is  an  honor,  Dom  Miguel,"  and 
he  bowed  respectfully  to  the  chief. 

Paola  wore  again  the  old,  inane  smile 
that  always  lent  his  face  an  indescribable 
leer  of  idiocy.  I  knew,  by  this  time,  that 
the  expression  was  indeed  a  mask  to  cover 
his  real  feelings,  and  idly  wondered  if  he 
would  choose  to  die  with  that  detestable 
simper  upon  his  lips. 

"Come,  gentlemen;   we  are  ready." 

It  was  the  captain  who  spoke,  and  we 
rose  obediently  and  filed  through  the  door- 
way, closely  guarded  by  the  Uruguayans. 

In  the  vacant  space  that  served  as  a  yard 

for  Bastro's  house  stood  a  solitary  date-palm 

with  a  straight,  slender  trunk.     Before  this 

we  halted,  and  Bastro  was  led  to  the  tree 

[265] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

and  a  rope  passed  around  his  body  securing 
him  to  the  trunk.  They  offered  to  blind- 
fold him,  but  he  waved  the  men  aside. 

"It  will  please  me  best  to  look  into  the 
muzzles  of  your  guns,"  said  the  patriot,  in 
a  quiet  voice.  "I  am  not  afraid,  Senhor 
Captain." 

De  Souza  glanced  at  the  sun.  It  was 
slowly  sinking,  a  ball  of  vivid  red,  into  the 
bosom  of  the  far-away  plateau. 

At  a  gesture  from  the  officer  six  of  the 
guardsmen  stepped  forward  and  leveled 
their  carbines  upon  B  astro,  who  stood  up- 
right against  the  tree,  with  a  proud  smile 
upon  his  manly  face. 

I  turned  away  my  head,  feeling  sick  and 
dizzy;  and  the  rattle  of  carbines  set  me 
trembling  with  nervous  horror.  Nor  did  I 
look  toward  the  tree  again,  although,  after 
an  interval  of  silence,  I  heard  the  tramp  of 
soldiers  bearing  Bastro's  body  to  the  desert- 
ed house. 

"Number  two !"  cried  de  Souza,  harshly. 

It  was  no  time  to  turn  craven.  My  own 
death  was  but  a  question  of  moments,  and  I 
realized  that  I  had  little  time  to  bid  farewell 
[266] 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour 

to  my  kind  friend  and  strive  to  cheer  him 
upon  his  way.  Going  to  his  side  I  seized 
Dom  Miguel's  hand  and  pressed  it  to  my 
lips;  but  he  was  not  content  with  that,  and 
caught  me  in  a  warm  and  affectionate  em- 
brace. 

Then  he  was  led  to  the  tree.  I  turned 
my  back,  covering  my  face  with  my  hands. 

"  For  the  Cause ! "  I  heard  his  gentle  voice 
say.  The  carbines  rang  out  again,  and 
a  convulsive  sob  burst  from  my  throat  in 
spite  of  my  strong  efforts  to  control  my 
emotion. 

Again  I  listened  to  the  solemn  tread  of 
the  soldiers,  while  from  far  away  the  sound 
of  a  shout  was  borne  to  us  upon  the  still 
evening  air. 

Somehow,  that  distant  shout  thrilled  me 
with  a  new-born  hope,  and  I  gazed  eagerly 
along  the  line  of  roadway  that  skirted  the 
forest. 

De  Souza  was  gazing  there,  too,  with  a 
disturbed  look  upon  his  face;  but  the  light 
was  growing  dim,  and  we  could  see  nothing. 

"Number  three!" 

It  was  Paola's  turn,  and  he  walked  un- 
[267] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

assisted  to  the  tree  and  set  his  back  to  it, 
while  the  soldiers  passed  the  rope  under 
his  arms  and  then  retired.  But  they  left 
Valcour  confronting  the  prisoner,  and  I  saw 
the  simper  fade  from  Paola's  lips  and  an 
eager  gleam  light  his  pale  features. 

For  a  few  moments  they  stood  thus,  sepa- 
rated from  all  the  rest,  and  exchanging 
earnest  whispers,  while  the  captain  stamped 
his  foot  with  savage  impatience. 

"Come,  come,  Valcour!"  he  called,  at 
last.  "You  are  interfering  with  my  duty. 
Leave  the  prisoner,  I  command  you!" 

The  spy  turned  around,  and  his  face  was 
positively  startling  in  its  expression  of  in- 
tense agony. 

"  If  you  are  in  a  hurry,  my  dear  Captain, 
fire  upon  us  both!"  said  he,  bitterly. 

With  a  muttered  oath  de  Souza  strode 
forward,  and  seizing  Valcour  by  the  arm, 
dragged  him  back  of  the  firing-line. 

But  at  that  instant  a  startling  sound 
reached  our  ears — the  sound  of  a  cheer — 
and  with  it  came  the  rapid  patter  of  horses* 
feet. 

The  soldiers,  who  had  already  leveled 
[268] 


At  the  Eleventh  Hour 

their  guns  at  Paola,  swung  suddenly  around 
upon  their  heels;  de  Souza  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  dismay,  and  the  rest  of  us  stood 
as  motionless  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

For  sweeping  around  the  curve  of  the 
forest  came  a  troop  of  horsemen,  led  by 
a  girl  whose  fluttering  white  skirts  trailed 
behind  her  like  a  banner  borne  on  the  breeze. 
God!  how  they  rode — the  horses  plunging 
madly  forward  at  every  bound,  their  red 
eyes  and  distended  nostrils  bearing  evidence 
of  the  wild  run  that  had  well-nigh  exhausted 
their  strength. 

And  the  riders,  as  they  sighted  us, 
screamed  curses  and  encouragement  in  the 
same  breath,  bearing  down  upon  our  silent 
group  with  the  speed  of  a  whirlwind. 

There  was  little  time  for  the  Uruguayans 
to  recover  from  their  surprise,  for  at  close 
range  the  horsemen  let  fly  a  volley  from 
rifle  and  revolver  that  did  deadly  havoc. 
A  few  saddles  were  emptied  in  return,  but 
almost  instantly  the  soldiers  and  patriots 
were  engaged  in  a  desperate  hand-to-hand 
conflict,  with  no  quarter  given  or  expected. 

De  Souza  fell  wounded  at  the  first  volley, 
[269] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

and  I  saw  Valcour,  with  a  glad  cry,  start 
forward  and  run  toward  Paola,  who  was 
still  bound  to  his  tree.  But  the  captain, 
half  raising  himself  from  the  ground,  aimed 
his  revolver  at  the  prisoner,  as  if  determined 
upon  his  death  in  spite  of  the  promised 
rescue. 

"Look  out!"  I  shouted,  observing  the 
action. 

Paola  was,  of  course,  helpless  to  evade 
the  bullet;  but  Valcour,  who  had  nearly 
reached  him,  turned  suddenly  at  my  cry 
and  threw  himself  in  front  of  Paola  just  as 
the  shot  rang  out. 

An  instant  the  spy  stood  motionless. 
Then,  tossing  his  arms  above  his  head,  he 
fell  backward  and  lay  still. 


[270] 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  EMPEROR'S  SPY 

Although  the  deadly  conflict  was  raging 
all  about  us,  I  passed  it  by  to  regard  a  still 
more  exciting  tragedy.  For  with  a  roar  like 
that  from  a  mad  bull  Mazanovitch  dashed 
aside  his  captors  and  sprang  to  the  spot 
where  Valcour  lay. 

"Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling!"  he 
moaned,  raising  the  delicate  form  that  he 
might  pillow  the  head  upon  his  knee. 
"How  dared  they  harm  you,  my  precious 
one !  How  dared  they ! " 

Paola,  struggling  madly  with  his  bonds, 
succeeded  in  bursting  them  asunder,  and 
now  staggered  up  to  kneel  beside  Valcour. 
His  eyes  were  staring  and  full  of  a  horror 
that  his  own  near  approach  to  death  had 
never  for  an  instant  evoked. 

Taking  one  of  the  spy's  slender  hands  in 
both  his  own  he  pressed  it  to  his  heart  and 
said  in  trembling  tones : 
[271] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  Look  up,  sweetheart !  Look  up,  I  beg 
of  you.  It  is  Francisco — do  you  not  know 
me?  Are  you  dead,  Valcour?  Are  you  dead?" 

A  gentle  hand  pushed  him  aside,  and 
Lesba  knelt  in  his  place.  With  deft  fingers 
she  bared  Valcour's  breast,  tearing  away  the 
soft  linen  through  which  a  crimson  stain 
had  already  spread,  and  bending  over  a 
wound  in  the  left  shoulder  to  examine  it 
closely.  Standing  beside  the  little  group, 
I  found  myself  regarding  the  actors  in  this 
remarkable  drama  with  an  interest  almost 
equaling  their  own.  The  bared  breast  re- 
vealed nothing  to  me,  however;  for  already 
I  knew  that  Valcour  was  a  woman 

Presently  Lesba  looked  up  into  the  little 
man's  drawn  face  and  smiled. 

"Fear  nothing,  Captain  Mazanovitch," 
said  she  softly;  "the  wound  is  not  very 
dangerous,  and — please  God! — we  will  yet 
save  your  daughter's  life." 

His  daughter!  How  much  of  the  mys- 
tery that  had  puzzled  me  this  simple  word 
revealed ! 

Paola,  still  kneeling  and  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands,  was  sobbing  like  a  child; 
[272] 


The  Emperor's  Spy 

Mazanovitch  drew  a  long  breath  and  al- 
lowed his  lids  to  again  droop  slowly  over 
his  eyes;  and  then  Lesba  looked  up  and 
our  eyes  met. 

"I  am  just  in  time,  Robert,"  she  mur- 
mured happily,  and  bent  over  Valcour  to 
hide  the  flush  that  dyed  her  sweet  face. 

I  started,  and  looked  around  me.  In 
the  gathering  twilight  the  forms  of  the 
slaughtered  Uruguayans  lay  revealed  where 
they  had  fallen,  for  not  a  single  member  of 
Dom  Pedro's  band  of  mercenaries  had  es- 
caped the  vengeance  of  the  patriots. 

Those  of  our  rescuers  who  survived  were 
standing  in  a  little  group  near  by,  leaning 
upon  their  long  rifles,  awaiting  further  com- 
mands. 

Among  them  I  recognized  Pedro,  and 
beckoning  him  to  follow  me  I  returned  to 
the  house  and  lifted  a  door  from  its  hinges. 
Between  us  we  bore  it  to  the  yard  and  very 
gently  placed  Valcour's  slight  form  upon 
the  improvised  stretcher. 

She  moaned  at  the  movement,  slowly 
unclosing  her  eyes.  It  was  Paola's  face  that 
bent  over  her  and  Paola  that  pressed  her 
[273] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

hand;    so  she  smiled  and  closed  her  eyes 
again,  like  a  tired  child. 

We  carried  her  into  the  little  chamber 
from  whence  Lesba  had  escaped,  for  in  the 
outer  room  lay  side  by  side  the  silent  forms 
of  the  martyrs  of  the  Republic. 

Tenderly  placing  Valcour  upon  the  couch, 
Pedro  and  I  withdrew  and  closed  the  door 
behind  us. 

I  had  started  to  pass  through  the  outer 
room  into  the  yard  when  an  exclamation 
from  the  station-master  arrested  me.  Turn- 
ing back  I  found  that  Pedro  had  knelt  be- 
side Dom  Miguel  and  with  broken  sobs  was 
pressing  the  master's  hand  passionately  to 
his  lips.  My  own  heart  was  heavy  with  sor- 
row as  I  leaned  over  the  outstretched  form 
of  our  beloved  chief  for  a  last  look  into  his 
still  face. 

Even  as  I  did  so  my  pulse  gave  a  bound 
of  joy.  The  heavy  eyelids  trembled — ever 
so  slightly — the  chest  expanded  in  a  gentle 
sigh,  and  slowly — oh,  so  slowly! — the  eyes 
of  Dom  Miguel  unclosed  and  gazed  upon 
us  with  their  accustomed  sweetness  and  in- 
telligence. 

[274] 


The  Emperor's  Spy 

"Master!  Master!"  cried  Pedro,  bend- 
ing over  with  trembling  eagerness,  "it  is 
done !  It  is  done,  my  master !  The  Revo- 
lution is  accomplished — Fonseca  is  supreme 
in  Rio — the  army  is  ours!  The  country  is 
ours!  God  bless  the  Republic  of  Brazil!" 

My  own  heart  swelled  at  the  glad  tidings, 
now  heard  for  the  first  time.  But  over  the 
face  of  the  martyred  chief  swept  an  expres- 
sion of  joy  so  ecstatic — so  like  a  dream  of 
heaven  fulfilled — that  we  scarcely  breathed 
as  we  watched  the  light  grow  radiant  in  his 
eyes  and  linger  there  while  an  ashen  pallor 
succeeded  the  flush  upon  his  cheeks. 

Painfully  Dom  Miguel  reached  out  his 
arms  to  us,  and  Pedro  and  I  each  clasped  a 
hand  within  our  own. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  whispered,  softly.  "  Glad 
and  content.  God  bless  the  Republic  of 
Brazil!" 

The  head  fell  back;  the  light  faded  from 
his  eyes  and  left  them  glazed  and  staring; 
a  tremor  passed  through  his  body,  com- 
municating its  agony  even  to  us  who  held 
his  hands,  as  by  an  electric  current. 

Pedro  still  kneeled  and  sobbed,  but  I 
[275] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

contented  myself  with  pressing  the  hand 
and  laying  it  gently  upon  Dom  Miguel's 
breast. 

Truly  it  was  done,  and  well  done.  In 
Rio  they  were  cheering  the  Republic,  while 
here  in  this  isolated  cottage,  surrounded 
by  the  only  carnage  the  Revolution  had  in- 
volved, lay  stilled  forever  that  great  heart 
which  had  given  to  its  native  land  the  birth- 
right of  Liberty. 

Lesba  had  dressed  Valcour's  wound  with 
surprising  skill,  and  throughout  the  long, 
dreary  night  she  bathed  the  girl's  hot  fore- 
head and  nursed  her  as  tenderly  as  a  sister 
might,  while  Paola  sat  silently  by  and 
watched  her  every  movement. 

In  the  early  morning  Pedro  summoned 
us  to  breakfast,  which  he  had  himself  pre- 
pared ;  and,  as  Valcour  was  sleeping,  Lesba 
and  Mazanovitch  joined  me  at  the  table 
while  Paola  still  kept  ward  in  the  wounded 
girl's  chamber. 

The  patriots  were  digging  a  trench  in 
which  to  inter  the  dead  Uruguayans,  and 
I  stood  in  the  doorway  a  moment  and 
[276] 


The  Emperor's  Spy 

watched  them,  drinking  in  at  the  same  time 
the  cool  morning  air. 

There  Lesba  joined  me,  somewhat  pale 
from  her  night's  watching,  and  although  as 
yet  no  word  of  explanation  had  passed  be- 
tween us,  she  knew  that  I  no  longer  doubted 
her  loyalty,  and  forbore  to  blame  me  for 
my  stupidity  in  not  comprehending  that  her 
every  action  had  been  for  the  welfare  of  the 
Cause. 

At  breakfast  Pedro  told  us  more  of  the 
wonderful  news;  how  the  Revolution  had 
succeeded  in  Rio  with  practically  no  blood- 
shed or  resistance;  how  Fonseca  had  met 
the  Emperor  at  the  train  on  his  arrival  and 
escorted  him,  well  guarded,  to  the  port, 
where  he  was  put  on  board  a  ship  that  sailed 
at  once  for  Lisbon.  Indeed,  that  was  to  be 
the  last  of  Dom  Pedro's  rule,  for  the  popu- 
lace immediately  proclaimed  Fonseca  dicta- 
tor, and  the  patriots'  dream  of  a  Republic 
of  Brazil  had  become  an  established  fact. 

Presently  we  passed  into  the  outer  room 

and  looked  upon  the  still  form  of  Miguel 

de   Pintra,    the    man  to  whose  genius  the 

new  Republic  owed   its  success — the  great 

[277] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

leader  who  had  miserably  perished  on  the 
very  eve  of  his  noble  achievement. 

The  conspiracy  was  a  conspiracy  no 
longer;  it  had  attained  to  the  dignity  of  a 
masterly  Revolution,  and  the  Cause  of  Free- 
dom had  once  more  prevailed ! 

Taking  Lesba's  hand  we  passed  the 
bodies  of  Bastro  and  Captain  de  Souza  and 
gained  the  yard,  walking  slowly  along  the 
road  that  skirted  the  forest,  while  she  told 
me  how  Valcour  had  assisted  her  to  escape 
from  the  chamber,  that  she  might  summon 
the  patriots  to  effect  our  rescue.  She  had 
wandered  long  in  the  forest,  she  explained, 
before  Pedro  met  her  and  assisted  her  to 
gather  the  band  that  had  saved  us.  Yet 
the  brave  girl's  grief  was  intense  that  she 
had  not  arrived  in  time  to  rescue  her  guar- 
dian, Dom  Miguel,  whom  she  so  dearly 
loved. 

"Yet  I  think,  Robert,"  said  she,  with 
tearful  eyes,  "that  uncle  would  have  died 
willingly  had  he  known  the  Republic  was 
assured." 

"He  did  know  it,"  said  I.  "For  a  mo- 
ment, last  evening,  he  recovered  conscious- 
[278] 


The  Emperor's  Spy 

ness.  It  was  but  a  moment,  but  long  enough 
for  Pedro  to  tell  him  the  glorious  news  of 
victory.  And  he  died  content,  Lesba,  al- 
though I  know  how  happy  it  would  have 
made  him  to  live  to  see  the  triumph  of  the 
new  Republic.  His  compatriots  would  also 
have  taken  great  pride  in  honoring  Dom 
Miguel  above  all  men  for  his  faithful  ser- 
vice." 

She  made  no  reply  to  this,  and  for  a  time 
we  walked  on  in  gloomy  silence. 

"Tell  me,  Lesba,  have  you  long  had 
knowledge  of  Valcour's  real  identity?'* 

"  Francisco  told  me  the  truth  months  ago, 
and  that  he  loved  her,"  she  replied.  "But 
Valcour  was  sworn  to  the  Emperor's  service, 
and  would  not  listen  to  my  brother  as  long 
as  she  suspected  him  of  being  in  league  with 
the  Republicans.  So  they  schemed  and 
struggled  against  one  another  for  the  su- 
premacy, while  each  admired  the  other's 
talents,  and  doubtless  longed  for  the  war- 
fare to  cease." 

"And  how  came  this  girl  to  be  the  Em- 
peror's spy,  masquerading  under  the  guise 
of  a  man?"  I  inquired. 
[279] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  Captain  Mazan- 
ovitch,  who,  when  her  mother  died,  took 
delight  in  instructing  his  child  in  all  the  arts 
known  to  the  detective  police.  As  she  grew 
up  she  became  of  great  service  to  her  father, 
being  often  employed  upon  missions  of  ex- 
treme delicacy  and  even  danger.  Mazan- 
ovitch  used  to  boast  that  she  was  a  better 
detective  than  himself,  and  the  Emperor 
became  attached  to  the  girl  and  made  her 
his  confidential  body-guard,  sending  her  at 
times  upon  important  secret  missions  con- 
nected with  the  government.  When  Ma- 
zanovitch  was  won  over  to  the  Republican 
conspiracy  his  daughter,  whose  real  name 
is  Carlotta,  refused  to  desert  the  Emperor, 
and  from  that  time  on  treated  her  father  as 
a  traitor,  and  opposed  her  wit  to  his  own  on 
every  occasion.  The  male  attire  she  wore 
both  for  convenience  and  as  a  disguise;  but 
I  have  learned  to  know  Valcour  well,  and 
have  found  her  exceedingly  sweet  and 
womanly,  despite  her  professional  calling." 

It  was  all  simple  enough,  once  one  had 
the  clew ;  yet  so  extraordinary  was  the  story 
that  it  aroused  my  wonder.  In  no  other 
[280] 


The  Emperor's  Spy 

country  than  half-civilized  Brazil,  I  reflect- 
ed, could  such  a  drama  have  been  enacted. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house  we  passed 
the  window  of  Valcour's  room  and  paused 
to  look  through  the  open  sash. 

The  girl  was  awake  and  apparently  much 
better,  for  she  smiled  brightly  into  the  face 
Paola  bent  over  her,  and  showed  no  resent- 
ment when  he  stooped  to  kiss  her  lips. 


[281] 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE  GIRL  I  LOVE 

It  was  long  ago,  that  day  that  brought 
Liberty  to  Brazil  and  glory  to  the  name 
of  Miguel  de  Pintra.  Fate  is  big,  but 
her  puppets  are  small,  and  such  atoms 
are  easily  swept  aside  and  scattered  by  the 
mighty  flood-tide  of  events  for  which  we 
hold  capricious  Fate  responsible. 

Yet  they  leave  records,  these  atoms. 

I  remember  how  we  came  to  Rio — Val- 
cour,  Lesba,  Paola,  and  I — and  how  Paola 
was  carried  through  the  streets  perched 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  free  citizens,  while 
vast  throngs  pressed  around  to  cheer  and 
strong  men  struggled  to  touch  the  patriot's 
hand  and  load  him  with  expressions  of  love 
and  gratitude.  And  there  was  no  simper 
upon  Paola's  face  then,  you  may  be  sure. 
Since  the  tragedy  at  Bastro's  that  disagree- 
able expression  had  vanished  forever,  to  be 
replaced  by  a  manliness  that  was  the  fellow's 
[282] 


The  Girl  I  Love 

most  natural  attribute,  and  fitted  his  fine 
features  much  better  than  the  repulsive  leer 
he  had  formerly  adopted  as  a  mask. 

Valcour,  still  weak,  but  looking  rarely 
beautiful  in  her  womanly  robes,  rode  in  a 
carriage  beside  Francisco  and  shared  in  the 
fullness  of  his  triumph.  The  patriots  were 
heroes  in  those  early  days  of  the  Republic. 
Even  I,  modest  as  had  been  my  deeds,  was 
cheered  far  beyond  my  deserts,  and  for 
Lesba  they  wove  a  wreath  of  flowering 
laurel,  and  forced  the  happy  and  blushing 
girl  to  wear  it  throughout  our  progress 
through  the  streets  of  the  capital. 

Fonseca  invited  us  to  the  palace,  where 
he  had  established  his  headquarters;  but 
we  preferred  to  go  to  the  humbler  home  of 
Captain  Mazanovitch,  wherein  we  might 
remain  in  comparative  retirement  during  the 
exciting  events  of  those  first  days  of  re- 
joicing. 

Afterward  we  witnessed  the  grand  pro- 
cession in  honor  of  the  Dictator.  I  remem- 
ber that  Fonseca  and  his  old  enemy  Piexoto 
rode  together  in  the  same  carriage,  all  feuds 
being  buried  in  their  common  triumph. 
[283] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

The  bluff  general  wore  his  most  gorgeous 
uniform  and  the  lean  statesman  his  shabby 
gray  cloak.  And  in  my  judgment  the 
adulation  of  the  populace  was  fairly  divided 
between  these  two  champions,  although  the 
Dictator  of  the  Republic  bowed  with  pom- 
pous pride  to  right  and  left,  while  the  little 
man  who  was  destined  to  afterward  become 
President  of  the  United  States  of  Brazil 
shrank  back  in  his  corner  with  assumed 
modesty.  Yet  Piexoto's  eyes,  shrewd  and 
observing,  were  everywhere,  and  it  may  be 
guessed  that  he  lost  no  detail  of  the  day's 
events. 

Paola  should  have  been  in  that  proces- 
sion, likewise,  for  the  people  fairly  idolized 
the  former  Minister  of  Police,  and  both  Fon- 
seca  and  Piexoto  had  summoned  him  to  join 
them.  But  no;  he  preferred  to  sit  at  Val- 
cour's  side  in  a  quiet,  sunlit  room,  effacing 
himself  in  all  eyes  but  hers,  while  history 
was  making  in  the  crowded  streets  of  the 
capital. 

It  required  many  days  to  properly  organ- 
ize a  republican  form  of  government;  but 
the  people  were  patient  and  forbearing,  and 
[284] 


The  Girl  I  Love 

their  leaders  loyal  and  true;     so  presently 
order  began  to  come  out  of  chaos. 

Meantime  Valcour  mended  daily,  and 
the  roses  that  had  so  long  been  strangers 
to  her  pale  cheeks  began  to  blossom  pret- 
tily under  the  influence  of  Francisco's  lov- 
ing care. 

They  were  happy  days,  I  know;  for 
Lesba  and  I  shared  them,  although  not  so 
quietly.  For  the  dear  girl  was  all  aglow 
with  the  triumph  of  Liberty,  and  dragged 
me  as  her  escort  to  every  mass-meeting  or 
festival  and  every  one  of  the  endless  pro- 
cessions until  the  enthusiasm  of  her  com- 
patriots had  thoroughly  tired  me  out.  The 
Liberty  of  Brazil  bade  fair  to  deprive  me  of 
my  own;  but  I  bore  the  ordeal  pretty  well, 
in  Lesba's  society. 

Then  came  a  day  when  I  obtained  my 
reward.  Valcour  had  made  a  quick  re- 
covery, and  now  needed  only  the  strength- 
ening influence  of  country  air;  so  one 
bright  morning  we  all  boarded  a  special 
train  and  traveled  to  Cuyaba,  reaching 
safely  the  de  Pintra  mansion  in  the  early 
evening. 

[285] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

Nothing  seemed  changed  about  the  dear 
old  place,  which  I  had  already  arranged  to 
purchase  from  Dom  Miguel's  executors. 
Pedro  had  resigned  his  position  as  station- 
master  to  become  our  major-domo,  and  the 
thoughtful  fellow  had  made  every  provision 
for  our  comfort  on  this  occasion  of  our  home- 
coming. 

Captain  Mazanovitch  was  with  us.  He 
had  retired  from  active  service  to  enjoy 
his  remaining  years  in  his  daughter's  soci- 
ety, and  although  he  seldom  allowed 
one  of  us  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  eyes, 
the  face  of  the  old  detective  had  acquired 
an  expression  of  content  that  was  a  distinct 
advantage  to  it. 

I  had  chosen  to  occupy  my  old  room  off 
the  library,  and  early  on  the  morning  follow- 
ing our  arrival  I  arose  and  passed  out  into 
the  shrubbery.  Far  down  the  winding 
walks,  set  within  the  very  center  of  the  vast 
flower  gardens,  was  the  grave  of  Dom 
Miguel,  and  thither  I  directed  my  steps. 
As  I  drew  near  I  saw  the  square  block  of 
white  marble  that  the  patriots  had  caused 
to  be  erected  above  the  last  resting-place 
[286] 


The  Girl  I  Love 

of  their  beloved  chieftain.  It  bore  the 
words 

"MIGUEL  DE  PINTRA 

SAVIOR  OF  BRAZIL'* 

and  is  to  this  day  the  mecca  of  all  good  re- 
publicans. 

Lesba  was  standing  beside  the  tomb  as 
I  approached.  Her  gown  was  as  white  as 
the  marble  itself,  but  a  red  rose  lay  upon 
her  bosom  and  another  above  Dom  Miguel. 
She  did  not  notice  my  presence  until  I 
touched  her  arm,  but  then  she  turned  and 
smiled  into  my  eyes. 

"' Savior  of  Brazil!'  she  whispered 
softly.  "It  is  splendid  and  fitting.  Did 
you  place  it  there,  Robert?" 

"No,"  I  answered;  "the  credit  is  due  to 
Piexoto.  He  claimed  the  privilege  for  him- 
self and  his  associates,  and  I  considered  it 
his  right." 

"Dear  uncle!"  said  she;  and  then  we 
turned  reverently  away  and  strolled  through 
the  gardens.  Every  flower  and  shrub  lay  fair 
and  fresh  under  the  early  sun,  and  we  ad- 
mired them  and  drank  in  their  fragrance 
[287] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

until  suddenly,  as  we  turned  a  corner  of  the 
hedge,  I  stopped  and  said: 

"Lesba,  it  was  here  that  I  first  met  you; 
on  this  exact  spot!" 

"I  remember,"  said  she,  brightly.  "It 
was  here  that  I  prophesied  you  would  be  true 
to  the  Cause." 

"And  it  was  here  that  I  loved  you,"  I 
added;  "for  I  cannot  remember  a  moment 
since  that  first  glimpse  of  your  dear  face  that 
my  heart  has  not  been  your  very  own." 

She  grew  sober  at  this  speech,  and  I 
watched  her  face  anxiously. 

"Tell  me,  Lesba,"  said  I  at  last,  "will 
you  be  my  wife?" 

"And  go  to  your  country?"  she  asked, 
quickly. 

I  hesitated. 

"All  my  interests  are  there,  and  my  peo- 
ple, as  well,"  I  answered. 

"But  I  cannot  leave  Brazil,"  she  re- 
joined, positively;  "and  Brazil  needs  you, 
too,  Robert,  in  these  years  when  she  is 
beginning  to  stand  alone  and  take  her  place 
among  nations.  Has  not  Fonseca  offered 
you  a  position  as  Director  of  Commerce?" 
[288] 


The  Girl  I  Love 

"Yes;  I  am  grateful  for  the  honor.  But 
I  have  large  and  important  business  in- 
terests at  home." 

"But  your  uncle  is  fully  competent  to 
look  after  them.  You  have  told  me  as 
much.  We  need  you  here  more  than  they 
need  you  at  home,  for  your  commercial  con- 
nections and  special  training  will  be  of  in- 
estimable advantage  in  assisting  the  Repub- 
lic to  build  up  its  commerce  and  extend  its 
interests  in  foreign  lands.  Brazil  needs  you. 
7  need  you,  Robert!  Won't  you  stay  with 
us — dear?  For  a  time,  at  least?" 

Well,  I  wrote  to  Uncle  Nelson,  and  his 
reply  was  characteristic. 

"I  loaned  you  to  de  Pintra,  not  to  Bra- 
zil," his  letter  read.  "But  I  am  convinced 
the  experiences  to  be  gained  in  that  country 
during  these  experimental  years  of  the  new 
republic,  will  be  most  valuable  in  fitting  you 
for  the  management  of  your  own  business 
when  you  are  finally  called  upon  to  assume 
it.  You  may  remain  absent  for  five  years, 
but  at  the  expiration  of  that  period  I  shall 
retire  from  active  business,  and  you  must 
return  to  take  my  place." 
[289] 


The  Fate  of  a  Crown 

On  those  terms  I  compromised  with 
Lesba,  and  we  were  married  on  the  same 
day  that  Valcour  and  Francisco  Paola  be- 
came man  and  wife. 

"I  should  have  married  you,  anyway," 
Lesba  confided  to  me  afterward;  "but  I 
could  not  resist  the  chance  to  accomplish 
one  master-stroke  for  the  good  of  my  coun- 
try." And  she  knew  the  compliment  would 
cancel  the  treachery  even  before  I  had  kissed 
her. 

As  I  have  hinted,  these  events  happened 
years  ago,  and  I  wonder  if  I  have  forgotten 
any  incident  that  you  would  be  interested  to 
know. 

Dom  Miguel's  old  home  became  our 
country  residence,  and  we  clung  to  it  every 
day  I  could  spare  from  my  duties  at  the  cap- 
ital. It  was  here  our  little  Valcour  was  born, 
and  here  that  Francisco  came  afterward  to 
bless  our  love  and  add  to  our  happiness  and 
content. 

The  Paolas  are  our  near  neighbors,  and 

often  Gaptain  Mazanovitch  drives  over  with 

their  son  Harcliffe  to«give  the  child  a  romp 

with  our  little  ones.     The  old  detective  is 

[290] 


The  Girl  I  Love 

devoted  to  the  whole  noisy  band,  but  yes- 
terday I  was  obliged  to  reprove  Francisco 
for  poking  his  chubby  fingers  into  the  cap- 
tain's eyes  in  a  futile  endeavor  to  make  him 
raise  the  ever-drooping  lids. 

The  five-year  limit  expired  long  since; 
but  I  have  never  been  able  to  fully  separate 
my  interests  from  those  of  Brazil,  and  al- 
though our  winters  are  usually  passed  in 
New  Orleans,  where  Uncle  Nelson  remains 
the  vigorous  head  of  our  firm,  it  is  in  sunny 
Brazil  that  my  wife  and  I  love  best  to  live. 


[291] 


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